


Just a Pilgrim

by Melodious329



Series: Pilgrim [1]
Category: Angel: the Series RPF, CW Network RPF, Kane (Band), Leverage RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Werewolves, hurt/comfort bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-19
Updated: 2011-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-18 09:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melodious329/pseuds/Melodious329
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hurt/Comfort Bingo Square:  Experiments by Evil Scientists</p><p>Steve is new to this pack in Oklahoma, but when Christian is kidnapped, he finds himself more entangled in pack politics than he wanted to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Pilgrim

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I neither own nor know the real persons after whom these characters are created

It’s a summer day, the setting of the sun cooling the temperature down from scorching to just hot. But sitting on his porch with his feet up on the railing, Steve thinks it feels pretty good, particularly sharing a moment and a cold beer with good friends, Jensen and Jared sitting beside him.

Steve has lived here about a year, buying this house deliberately on the edge of this little town near the park and the woods. He had never before imagined that he’d settle down in the middle of small town middle America, just east of Norman, Oklahoma.

He was born in California, was a musician working in Hollywood when it happened to him, when he was bitten by a werewolf. But everything didn’t change after that. He worked on the music in the first talkies back then and stayed in California even when he had to give up the work before people noticed him not aging. California grew and changed and it was easy to stay, changing with the times and blending in with the diverse peoples that came.

But in the eighties, Steve needed something new. After the introspection of the hippie culture, he needed to find himself. He needed to change, instead of just adapt to the changes around him. So he went to Hawaii, he went to New York, he traveled around the US, but he stopped here in this little town.

There was something about a small town. Being in California, he had always felt free. There the werewolf pack had been dispersed. He had been free to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Steve had always felt like anything more would be too restrictive, would make him into someone else, someone he didn’t want to be.

But here there is a real wolfpack, a real hierarchy, a real community that simply moves from tiny town to tiny town in the state. But it turns out that hierarchy isn’t just a tool to restrict him, it also means that he is responsible to and for others. He isn’t at the top of the pack but here he feels that he is important, that he matters. And not just to the pack, he’s a school teacher here, determined to instill the love of music in kids.

Pushing his sunglasses up into blonde waves, Steve scratches the scruff on his chin, blonde hairs catching the sunlight and brings the bottle back up to his lips but freezes as he spots a familiar man carrying baseball equipment and leading a horde of kids out of the park. It’s Christian Kane.

Being honest, Steve would have to admit Christian is part of the reason he gave life in a small town a chance. Steve watches Christian now bathed in the dying light, tan skin burnished gold, red highlights visible in his hair, fiery as Christian tilts his face back to laugh.

Everyone knows Christian. He seems born to be a beta, because being the beta is not only about being the second most dominant wolf. Christian is loyal and obedient to Jeffery Dean Morgan, the alpha. He’s the first person to stand up to any member of the pack, the first to make them back down and fall in line. But Christian cares, he’s also the first person to defend any member of the pack. He’s the person any pack member can come to for help.

Christian stole Steve’s attention from the first moment, that strange combination of strength and gentleness, submission and dominance, the hints of intelligence in blue eyes and the mischievous tilt to full lips. Unfortunately, in the year that Steve has lived here, they haven’t interacted a lot. Steve’s new, and he isn’t at the top or involved with the running of the pack.

Christian’s lived in Oklahoma his whole life. Everyone knows the story. He was bitten in the 1960s by a woman who thought she couldn’t live without him, only to dump him shortly after Christian turned. He was taken into the pack and emerged as the beta within a year. Christian knows everyone, already has a circle of friends, David and Beth and other dominant wolves.

Steve also knows that Christian hasn’t done much dating since his first love. He’s charming and flirtatious and has a reputation that no girl lasts more than two months. And he dates girls.

“Stop mooning over him already,” Jensen’s voice interrupts Steve’s thoughts.

“Shove it,” Steve responds automatically, his blue eyes still focused on Christian in the distance as he brings the beer back to his lap. The response sets Jared to cackling, a sound that always makes Steve smile.

Steve can hear the scowl in Jensen’s voice clearly without looking. “You wouldn’t even know what to do with him, Steve.”

Jensen’s probably right, he usually is. They’re probably totally incompatible. Steve doesn’t exactly have the best track record himself. He’s a traveler, a rolling stone, who left his home, his pack. He’ll always be the outsider.

Plus Steve hasn’t exactly told Jensen and the guys the exact nature of his fantasies about Christian. Christian may be a more dominant wolf in the pack, but the movie playing out in Steve’s head has him bending Christian over the tailgate of that truck, shoving his hand down the back of those fitted jeans, Christian panting and writhing as Steve holds him down…

“Steve…Steve!” Jensen calls. “Dude, come on. We’ve gotta leave or we’ll be late for dinner at Jason’s house.”

Resigned, Steve sighs and stands, finishing the last of his beer as he watches Christian and Riley climb into Christian’s Jeep and drive off. It’s probably for the best, the fantasy would be ruined if Steve actually did anything about it.

***

Steve bought the house on the edge of town specifically to have a little distance from small town politics. So far he hasn’t felt the need to hide away, but he does love being so close to the woods.

It’s tradition, not necessity that a pack of werewolves runs as wolves during the three nights of the full moon, a way to keep the pack close and in this modern time, a way to keep werewolves connected to the wolf. They can turn any time though, run free through the woods whenever the need strikes. Steve has been a werewolf a long time, has run alone and in packs, in cities and woods and beaches, but here he’s discovered a connection to the wolf that he’s never had before.

Hence it’s not unusual when Steve leaves his house sometime before midnight. He’s still full and unexpectedly content from the evening with friends, but something still calls him to walk through the park and into the woods, moonlight glinting off of California blonde hair turning it silver. He walks far enough inside the tree coverage that the human members of the community won’t see him stripping or turning. Except tonight he’s not alone.

Others of the pack come from time to time, no one else with real frequency though, but tonight it’s Christian. Steve can see Christian up ahead, moving slowly, his hands reaching out to touch each tree as he passes by. He’s a dark shadow moving away from Steve, silvery light touching his hands and making his tan skin seem pale and ethereal.

Steve’s tempted to just turn around, walk away. Christian and everyone else in this town have been nothing but nice to Steve since he first stepped foot here, but Christian isn’t everyone else, not to Steve. Sure, they’ve run together, even horsed around a little as wolves, but always with the pack. Steve is constantly aware of Christian’s position here. They’ve never even spoken just the two of them, alone.

But it’s too late to run away as Christian turns toward him, pale eyes shining like liquid silver, and just as deadly Steve thinks. For a moment, their eyes lock, they simply stare into each other with something like recognition in two pairs of blue eyes.

Then the corners of Christian’s lips turn up in a tiny smile that Steve just has time to see before Christian ducks his face down coyly.

“Hey, Steve,” Christian says, meeting Steve’s eyes again with a schooled but still happy expression. “Were you gonna, uh, run?”

Christian looks as nervous as Steve feels and Steve stumbles over his own words, even as he’s trying to seem cool. “Yeah, but not if you…if you were doing something out here?” Steve says, acutely aware that Christian has responsibilities Steve isn’t privy to and can’t imagine.

But as soon as Steve utters the words, it’s like he can suddenly see the weight of that responsibility on Christian. The mere reminder has Christian’s adorable nervous energy fading, his features hardening. Christian looks away and when he looks back, the smile is now fake. “Nah, I just came out here to run too, pleasure not business.”

“Oh,” Steve replies awkwardly, his hand twitching once at his side in an aborted attempt to run his hand nervously through his long hair. “Well, I guess we can run together.”

Steve didn’t mean it to sound like an invitation. Or maybe it came out exactly as Steve meant, but it’s Christian’s response that’s surprising. Christian makes a soft sound and his smile widens, turning genuine even as long dark lashes fall to obscure his eyes.

“Yeah, we can do that,” Christian voice rumbles out, softer than before. Turning slightly, Christian leans against a nearby tree as he toes his boots off.

Christian leaning against that tree looks like an invitation to Steve, body language turning soft, muscular thighs hugged by worn denim and drifting open, bare feet standing in the grass and leaves.

Steve ducks his own face hiding the smug tilt to his lips, the predatory interest of his gaze. He feels like he’s finally found stable ground. He’s comfortable with what he wants and he’s comfortable getting it. Glancing up through his own blonde lashes, Steve stalks forward, his hands slowly unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt. Christian’s hands are grabbing the bottom of his dark t-shirt but he doesn’t pull the shirt off, too busy watching, seemingly enthralled, his eyes dark and shadowed and focused on Steve’s hands, on the skin being revealed.

Steve slides close enough to see the size of Christian’s enlarged pupils, close enough to smell the peppermint of the gum that Christian likes to chew. Steve brings his left hand up to rest against the tree beside Christian’s head making his intentions clear, his shirt hanging open as he leans in. It’s adorable how timid the big bad beta is waiting for Steve to make the first move, to cross the distance between them.

Steve notices immediately when Christian’s body stiffens, hears the sound of a sharply indrawn breath as Christian’s eyes widen. He just has time to wonder how he misjudged the situation this badly when Christian’s hands grab him hard, spinning them around, but Steve doesn’t feel the hard rough bark of a tree against his back, Christian pushes him away into nothingness.

Flailing to keep from landing on his butt and still expecting to feel Christian’s fist in his face, he sees Christian arching towards him like he’s trying to get away from something painful. It’s only then that he sees the men behind Christian, men dressed in all black like they’re playing at being soldiers or cat burglars, and a crackling sound, coming from long metal sticks, glinting in the moonlight. Cattle prods. They’re attacking Christian with cattle prods.

Christian is arching still, his bare feet shuffling the leaves on the ground, his arms held out from his body stiffly and his head thrown back, tendons and veins standing out in his neck. Steve still hasn’t managed to get his vocal cords to work when he hears Christian’s voice.

“Get…away,” Christian croaks. Steve thinks he’s talking to his attackers until Christian says, “Run!”

But Steve hesitates, counting the number of opponents and realizing that he can’t take them all even with supernatural strength and speed. He hesitates long enough to see them place a thin metal loop over Christian’s head, tightening it around his neck, dark brown hair caught between.

Steve takes off suddenly, sprinting back out of the woods, blonde hair and open shirt fluttering behind him, not worrying about being seen running faster than a human. He’s almost to the alpha’s house, colorful Converse sneakers pounding the pavement, when he realizes it was a catch pole put around Christian neck, used by animal control. These guys are prepared, they know that Christian’s dangerous.

Practically running smack into the door, Steve stops himself with a fist into the wood instead, immediately knocking, brutal and insistent until he can hear someone unlocking the door.

“What?!” The word roars out before the door jerks open to reveal the owner. Jeffery Dean Morgan was older when turned, his hair peppered with gray as is his stubble. He’s built like a bear, imposing in height and weight, but the pack rarely sees him angry, the beta takes care of most of the enforcement.

“It’s Christian,” Steve immediately pants out, only realizing now that he is panting, his only thought had been to get here as quickly as possible.

Steve stands impatiently as Jeff’s eyes look him up and down, eyebrows lifting at Steve’s wild appearance, shirt open and chest heaving, hair windblown and eyes desperate, pleading.

“We were attacked,” Steve continues, feeling like a disobedient child, his manner softening. But Jeff’s eyebrows have reaches his hairline and Steve doesn’t know which part of the statement Jeff is having the hardest time believing.

“It was a coincidence,” he stumbles out. “That we were in the woods to run at the same time, but then there were these men with cattle prods and…”

“Come in, come in,” Jeff interrupts, opening the door wider and ushering Steve inside where it’s warm and fragrant. He can see now that Jeffery is in sweatpants and a thin tshirt, his mate, Samantha standing behind him dressed similarly.

“Sam, call David, Beth, and Riley,” Jeff says even as he’s shooting Steve a measuring look. But then it’s Jeff’s demeanor that softens as he leads the way over to the couch, becoming more welcoming. Jeff just has a way that makes Steve feel like he’s with his father, making Steve feel both comfortable and answerable for his actions. Every time Steve just wants to give in, but he never does. Steve stares down at the alpha petulantly for a moment before sitting himself.

“We happened to both be in the woods for a run,” Steve starts again, trying to be calm, “and then these guys in all black showed up, black ski masks over their faces like in bad movies. They had cattle prods and a catch pole…they put it around Christian’s neck just after he told me to get help.”

Jeff seems stunned as Steve finishes his retelling. In all of Steve’s life, he’s never experienced being actually attacked like this, bar brawls, jealous lovers, fighting within a pack, but never a werewolf hunter.

“They had to know what Christian was, what we are. They were prepared. They didn’t say anything or take anything, anything but Christian. They were taking him somewhere, not trying to kill him or anything,” Steve tries to reason.

“Ok, ok,” Jeff says, trying to calm Steve who only now realizes that his speech was getting more and more frantic. Steve may be an outsider, a wolf just passing through, but he knows a pack like this protects its own, the alpha especially. Taking a deep breath, Steve tells himself that they’ll help Christian, save Christian. It’ll be ok.

Steve gives in to the urge to run a nervous hand through his hair, blue eyes staring at the coffee-table still wide and stunned, unbelieving of the night’s entire events. The sound of another sharp knock at the door startles him. For a moment, his eyes are wide and afraid, afraid that it’s those men at the door, come to take them all not just Christian.

But it’s just David wearing a white tshirt and jeans like he threw them back on after dumping them on the floor. David towers above Samantha as he steps inside and gives her a warm hug before turning serious as he comes over to Jeff. He doesn’t acknowledge Steve at all. David actually believes the pack to be very insular, or maybe he just doesn’t like Steve.

David’s mouth is open to ask Jeff about the situation but he doesn’t get the chance. Before Samantha’s even finished closing the door, Beth and Riley are slipping inside, giving her big smiles. Beth looks perfectly put together despite the late hour, blonde hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail and wearing a fitted black jacket over slim dark jeans. She immediately acknowledges Steve, that same big smile on her face for him.

“Hey, Steve,” she greets him, plopping down in the nearest armchair while David still stands on Jeff’s side of the couch. “What’re you...?”

“Steve! My man,” Riley interrupts, raising his hand for Steve to clap. He’s dressed in a gray tshirt with an open red and grey checkered shirt over it and loose light-colored jeans. Steve doesn’t get out a single greeting before he realizes that both Riley and Beth are looking down at Steve’s unbuttoned shirt with nothing underneath, their eyes staring at his bare chest with questions in them. Steve keeps his mouth shut as he looks down himself and begins buttoning.

He looks back up, ready to speak again when David’s serious voice intrudes, “What’s up, Morgan?”

Jeff is only called Morgan by the most dominant wolves in the pack, and Steve recognizes that right now he’s privy to a side of the pack, of Jeff that neither he nor most of the pack ever gets to see. But this is the side of the pack that Christian sees. Jeff sighs, leaning back into the couch, one arm stretched along the back towards Steve, the other along the armrest. He looks weary with responsibility, like Christian did for a moment in the woods earlier.

But Jeff’s voice is still strong and authoritative as he speaks, “Christian’s missing. Apparently, he was in the woods tonight with Steve when they were ambushed by a group of humans in all black, cattle prods and catch poles. They apparently came to kidnap Christian.”

All eyes are on Steve now, even Samantha’s as she comes back into the room to sit in the armchair beside her mate. Steve can feel one set of eyes intensely though.

“Christian was fighting these guys off when you left him? Then why aren’t we going out to help…?” David sudden erupts, cold gaze switching from Steve to Jeff as he already starts back towards the door.

“No, David. It’s too late,” Jeff says, his voice and manner implacable.

“He didn’t even get to fight,” Steve says lowly, remembering the way Christian’s body went suddenly rigid, with surprise and pain not disgust at Steve’s advances.

“Well, how’d they get the jump on him?” David interrogates Steve aggressively, like this is all Steve’s fault.

“I may have been…blocking his view,” Steve says vaguely, his face neutral but eyes sharp. He has no idea what to say to these people, Christian’s friends, how much Christian would want them to know. There are other same sex mating pairs in the pack, but none of them are the beta, none of them are with an outsider.

David’s lips pull down in a frown and Steve can practically see the wheels spinning as David tries to understand that comment while Beth’s expression turns excited like a little girl over a puppy.

“Was Christian working on something? Did he have suspicions about the safety of the pack?” Jeff asks the group.

“Nothing,” Riley answers, but he’s glancing at David even as he speaks. David has turned away from the group, obviously angry.

Jeff ignores David’s behavior as he tries to pull more information out. “There haven’t been anything, any threats or activities that I know about, but that doesn’t mean that he wasn’t following up on something small, a rumor or something.”

“If there was anything, he didn’t tell us,” David suddenly answers, anger still apparent in his voice, anger at Christian for going off on his own apparently. David may be bigger than Christian and both are dominant, but Christian is beta for many reasons.

“Ok,” Jeff says, leaning forward, elbows on his knees and fingers steepled together as he makes a decision. “David and Riley, go see if you can get a lead in the forest. Christian’s truck has got to still be out there, start there and follow where he went. Beth, go search Christian’s house for any information on what he was working on.”

The three wolves under Christian are all nodding when Steve speaks. “Can I…help?” Steve asks, not wanting to overstep his position in the pack, but wanting to be involved in the search.

Jeff smiles a little, softening back to the papa bear image. “Go with Beth.”

***

Long lashes flutter on Christian’s cheeks, the sedative he was given slowly wearing off but leaving him groggy still. A bright light fills his field of vision at first, making his eyes tear. He doesn’t realize he’s moving his arms until he realizes he can’t.

He’s lying on a specially made medical bed, completely naked with no cloth to protect his skin from the cold metal. His legs are strapped down not with cloth straps but metal shackles, too strong for even werewolf strength to break. But his arms on stretched away from his body on two extensions from the bed. Christian’s exposed and vulnerable, helpless.

His head is free though, and he turns his face toward the sound of men talking, coming closer, and squinting to try to see them. They’re plain, one bald and tall, the other stockier with dark blonde hair, both men wearing white lab coats.

“Can you believe it?” the bald man asks. “We probably saved the blonde one from ending up one of them. Talk about timing…”

“I know. We’ve waited years for this moment. This could save millions of lives and we start by saving one just by grabbing the subject.” The other laughs, obviously pleased with himself.

They grab the light, moving it away from Christian’s face and over his left arm. He blinks back tears and spots in his eyes, listening to them gather instruments.

The next time they speak it’s obviously into some kind of voice recorder. Christian rolls his head to the left to see, still feeling groggy from the drugs and shocks.

“The subject is male, about five ten and 170 pounds. He looks to be around thirty years old when he was turned. First we are going to test the ability of his body to recover from injury,” the bald one speaks loud and clear.

The light hits the metal of the scalpel as it’s moved to his forearm. “What’re y’all…” Christian slurs before he’s gritting his teeth at the pain.

*********************

Christian’s house is small, Steve thinks, given the man’s position. He follows Beth inside, looking comfortable here as Steve takes in the surroundings. It feels small inside, filled with thick wooden furniture, surfaces covered with knickknacks, handmade crafts, Native America pieces, kitschy cheap tourist buys.

Beth has left him behind as he snoops. The kitchen is clean though, free of the clutter, everything put away neatly. On the other side of the living room is a small hallway with two rooms. One is obviously Christian’s bedroom, full of more knickknacks around a large unmade bed with pale blue sheets. There’s a hamper in one corner of the room, clothes strewn around it like Christian threw them and missed. The chair on the other side of the room is also covered in clothes. As a guy, Steve is pretty sure those are the ones that aren’t quite dirty enough to be washed yet.

There’s a bathroom through another door in the bedroom, also clean but for a few things on the counter, shaving supplies mostly, and Christian’s toothbrush in a little blue holder.

Steve crosses the hall to the other room, a bedroom that has been made into an office/music room. Steve smiles at that, going over to run his fingers lightly over one guitar. He knew that Christian enjoyed music, but had no idea that the beta could play. There seem to be so many layers to the man. He’s the beta, obedient and independent, conservative but artistic with the long hair and the jewelry. There’s a couch with papers all over it, music and lyrics. On the other side of the room are a desk and a computer which Beth is currently using.

Steve wanders over to where Beth is sitting and picks up a notebook on the desk. Looking at what he’s holding, Beth explains, “That seems to be what he was working on. Damn Christian’s computer skills,” she suddenly says with a smile. “His non-existent skills.”

Steve smiles faintly at the ribbing but he feels awkward. He doesn’t know Christian, doesn’t know about his computer skills or his inability to organize. He’s not supposed to be here, wasn’t actually invited in.

“So you and Christian,” Beth interrupts his thoughts, looking up at him with a grin and a look that he figures is supposed to look licentious but just looks manic. He wants to grin and laugh at her ridiculousness, she must be a good friend.

But he doesn’t want to start rumors so he keeps his face neutral, his smile mild. “Sorry to disappoint. There’s no me and Christian.”

“Oh,” she says, her face falling. She almost looks upset, turning her face back to the screen deliberately like she might be giving him the cold shoulder.

“Christian’s a great guy,” she blurts out, not taking her eyes from the screen.

Unsure how to take that statement, Steve turns away himself, acting as if he’s looking at something on the nearby bookshelf. “Really? I haven’t gotten to know him.”

Beth takes her eyes away from the computer then, her gaze sharp. “He’s busy.”

“I know. He has an important role in the pack, friends he’s had forever,” Steve shrugs as his words trail off. He’s well aware of how different they are.

“You’re the one that keeps separate,” she says, standing up. She’s still talking as she gathers the notebook and some papers. “You’re the one that’s missing out.”

***

Christian is sweating under the bright light now, the metal feeling warm underneath him. The sedative has completely worn off, but he’s worn out from blood loss and healing himself. His left arm and torso are covered with red lines of healed skin and half-healed cuts of varying depths still oozing blood.

Scientists they call themselves. They haven’t spoken to Christian, haven’t acknowledged that he’s anything but a specimen, a butterfly pinned to a wall. He blinks the sweat out of his eyes, twitching against bonds he knows he can’t escape. The healing is as painful as the cutting, like electricity as skin pulls back together, re-fuses.

He’s waiting, waiting for the next cut, the next words, waiting for release with no way to escape.

“What about a more serious wound?” the short one asks. “Can they survive a wound to their abdomen for example, or does their healing not work quickly enough to save them from death in that case?”

Christian lays there, chest rising and falling quickly. He keeps his face turned away from them, not looking at what they’re going to do to him next, not trying to appeal to them. A strand of hair is stuck with sweat to the side of his face and he can’t brush it away. At this moment that small annoyance makes him feel like screaming.

The scientists take a long thin dagger-like knife out of their medical case and position it point down over Christian’s liver. When they plunge it in, Christian bites his tongue, blood filling his mouth as he pulls hard against his restraints for the first time, gasping and trying to get away.

***

The sun is beginning to come up, soft light filtering around the drawn blinds at Jeff’s house as Steve sits at the dining table drinking the coffee that Samantha put in front of him without a word. Beth seems to be ignoring him now, instead focusing on Jeff, attempting to take Jeff’s mind off of Christian’s predicament as they wait for David and Riley to get back.

Steve has watched Christian with Jeff and Beth and David and the rest, those at the top of the hierarchy are often together, but now it feels more intimate. Steve has only seen the beta and below taking orders from Jeff, following Jeff’s lead on the hunt, but Beth’s relationship with Jeff and Samantha seems very parental, as if Christian is the favored child and Beth the family youngest. Steve has to wonder how the picture changes when Christian is actually here, how Christian sees their relationships.

Beth’s a character. Though she looks sad, she has the hopeful air of a child as she tries to wrest Jeff’s attention back from his coffeecup. But Jeff looks like a man at a funeral, as if Christian is already somehow gone, lost to them. He sits staring into the inky depths of Samantha’s strong brew, trailing the tip of a thick finger around the rim.

It’s so quiet. It makes Steve wish he could throw his own cup to shatter on the floor like a spoiled child. He knows they should wait to see what David and Riley have found, but he and Beth already found what Christian was working on. He just wants to do something. How does Christian stand it, stand taking orders, waiting for intel instead of rushing off like a fool?

Steve isn’t cut out for this. In the time he’s been in Oklahoma, he’s seen the pack come together to help pack members and their human neighbors alike in projects big and small. He knows that the hierarchy runs like a well-oiled machine, but Steve has never seen all the work that goes into that. He’s never had to depend on others like this, never had to wait for another’s say-so. There are good and bad sides to a real pack he thinks.

Steve is just raising his cup to his lips when there are two knocks on the door and then David comes in without waiting for someone to answer. David looks angry still, rage boiling just underneath his semi-cool exterior, but Steve doesn’t know if that’s a good sign. David would be angry no matter if he did or didn’t find anything of use.

But Riley follows the taller man inside looking frustrated and defeated. That’s all Steve needs to see, it’s been hours and all they have are some of Christian’s scribblings.

Standing, Steve practically accuses David, “You found nothing.”

David shoots Steve an angry glare at Steve in retaliation but speaks to Jeff. “We found Christian’s boots. Looks like there were about twelve men, most of them well-trained, they covered their tracks. We tried to follow the tire marks but they took him far enough away that there wasn’t enough mud coming off the tires to make any trail on the roads. They were prepared though,” David concedes glaring again at Steve. “We found this.”

Riley unwraps something from a handkerchief, a needle. “It’s a sedative,” Riley says, his nose twitching, probably still a little numb from sniffing it.

Most drugs don’t affect werewolves, silver being the only thing that’s fatal to them. However, a sedative does put werewolves to sleep. It lowers werewolf metabolism including their healing ability and takes hours to wear off.

“There were two interesting prints out there,” David continues. “New boots, probably inexperienced, they could be the brains of the operation, the money, maybe they hired the rest of the men.”

Jeff nods, taking in the information but not offering anything yet. Beth is the next to speak up. “We found what Christian was working on.”

She hands the notebook over to David, everyone else has already studied it. “He was looking at this paranormal investigation group from the internet, looks like they had made a trip here recently.”

David looks at it, frown evident in his forehead. “But they haven’t done anything? It’s a big leap to go from a geek network on the internet to kidnapping someone on the belief that they’re a werewolf.”

Jeff finally speaks then. “Christian told me about them, said he didn’t think they’d be an actual threat but that he was keeping his ear to the ground, had Aldis check out the group’s members on the ‘net, even scoped out the house of a member who lives near here.”

“Ok, well, we can start with him, go ask him some questions,” Steve says, excited at the prospect of doing something.

Jeff’s expression is grim as he stands up. “We can’t go around interrogating people about werewolves. That would just bring attention to the pack, which Christian wouldn’t want. No, if it is this group, and it may not be, we need to find out where they would keep him. This guy Christian checked out lives in a one story house, no suspicious purchases, no suspicious numbers of people going in, no building a storm cellar in the backyard. He’d have to keep Christian somewhere else.”

“So what are we gonna do?” Steve demands.

Jeff looks at him indulgently, but Steve can see that he can only push so far. Responding calmly, Jeff says, “We check out their members, check out their property, see if there’s anything unique about the boot and tire treads and the sedative that we can trace.”

Sit around in other words, Steve thinks and has to bite his tongue not to say anything. He can see Beth and Riley looking around uncomfortably. This is more than just their friend, this is the pack’s beta. With Christian gone, it changes the dynamic of the pack, dominance at the top might be rearranged. And if David wins, he’ll never be a great beta, definitely not like Christian was.

Jeff gives the dominant wolves their orders but Steve has stopped listening. What is he supposed to do? He isn’t a dominant wolf in the pack, can’t join them in their search. They’re just going to sit around and do research anyway, stake out the guy’s place. Steve can’t handle that, but he can’t handle the thought of going back to his own house either.

***

Christian is now lying in a pool of his own blood that’s drying into flakes in the grooves of his stomach down into the dark thatch of his pubic hair, dripping down over his right side to congeal on the metal bed. There’s blood also on Christian’s right cheek that spilled out after he bit his tongue.

He’s cold now, goosebumps breaking out on his shivering skin despite the bright lights, despite the healing sparks that are still patching his abdomen together.

“Still alive,” the bald man says. “His liver’s already healed, truly remarkable.”

“There’s only one more thing to test,” the short one interjects. “I can’t believe we’re going to test the validity of werewolf myths.” He laughs giddy as a child.

The short one then opens a special case containing a long, sharp knife of pure silver. Taking the knife out, he laughs again, unbelieving.

Moving to an undamaged spot, the short man places it carefully against the skin of Christian’s upper left thigh, looking at Christian’s face for any sign that the werewolf can simply feel the presence of silver. Christian only shivers at the cold of it.

The bald one nods seriously after a moment, a sign the short one takes to slice the knife deeply across Christian’s thigh. This time Christian whines, low and desperate, animalistic, the first vocal sign of discomfort he’s given, but he’s too tired, too hurt to hold the sound back anymore.

The effect on Christian’s body is immediate as well, the skin around the wound turning black, the color flowing out from the wound like oil on water. Christian still whimpers in pain, but after a few moments, the expansion of the black stops. The werewolf’s body is fighting the infection, stopping it before it can get too far.

“Fascinating,” the bald one breathes, reverently.

“The legends are true,” the short one says with a breathy laugh. “It might really be that we have to stab it through the heart with silver to kill it.”

“Let’s not try that yet. Let’s see what happens if we embed the silver further into non-vital tissue. What would happen if we left the knife in? Is it possible to kill a werewolf with silver in non-vital tissue?” the bald one replies logically.

Picking the silver knife back up, the shorter man hmmms for a moment considering before he raises the knife with both hands and drives it deep into the werewolf’s right thigh.

Christian’s scream rings off the walls like a fire alarm shocking both men. The werewolf is arching his entire back off the bed, jerking his legs against the restraints to get away from the silver, still screaming. For a moment neither man can move, they’re so shocked, but then they burst into action. The shorter man yanks the silver knife from the werewolf’s leg while the bald man is diving at his medical bag, grabbing another prefilled syringe of sedative. Uncapping it, he leans his entire weight on the werewolf’s forearm to steady it, sliding the needle into the vein in its forearm.

Just as suddenly as the screaming started, it stops, the werewolf simply collapses back onto the bed, head lolling to the side. The silence is its own physical presence as the two men try to control their breathing, their panic, trying to hear if any neighbor comes knocking on the door wondering what the commotion is.

After a long anxious moment, the two men begin to move again coming back together to look at the werewolf’s pierced thigh. The wound gapes open, bleeding sluggishly, not healing but neither is the black patch around it spreading further. It seems simply suspended.

“Should we continue the experiments while it’s sedated?” the shorter man asks.

Considering the latest wound still, the bald man replies, “Not yet. I think we should see if this one heals before we continue.”

They put away the tools almost grudgingly, throwing away the gloves they were wearing and climbing the stairs to the main floor of the house.

***

It’s not really a conscious decision on Steve’s part, he just has to know, has to see for himself. He just gets into his car and drives to the house of the nearest member of that internet group, the one that Christian had checked out in Tulsa.

He spends the two hour drive trying not to think. He feels like a naughty schoolboy or something, like he’s disappointing the pack and himself somehow. But it’s Christian, and the idea of him being separated from his pack, being injured or even killed after all he’s done for everyone else is untenable. If he has to leave the pack after this, that’s fine. Maybe he was never meant to be in a pack.

The house is totally suburban and nondescript, one story with pale yellow siding, except there seems to be little to no greenery in the yard, just a large tree with roots breaking up the ground. It looks utterly sad somehow.

Now that he’s here, Steve still has no idea what he’s doing. What was the point of coming here? What is he expecting to find, and what is the plan if he does see something suspicious?

He thinks of Jeff’s words that they can’t just interrogate people. Steve knows it’s true. Werewolves thrive on the denial of the general public, any evidence of their existence is quickly scoffed at and disappears into obscurity. And Steve knows the most important duty of any alpha and beta is keeping a lid on their existence.

But this guy, in his little yellow house, he’s undoubtedly a schmuck. What is he gonna do, go run to the police saying a guy asked him questions about werewolves? This is exactly the kinda guy that they can push around. There’s no way he’d be eliminated for this…

Steve is out of his car before he can really think about it further, before he can talk himself out of it. He simply walks up to the front door of the house looking like the friendly neighborhood hippie with his long blonde hair, loose pale-colored button-up, and jeans. The neighbors are all at work anyway.

He hears the guy moving behind the door before it opens, the man bald and thin and pathetic. It’s too easy. In a town like this, it would be suspicious to be suspicious, and the man opens his door without even asking who’s on the other side.

The opening of the door sends a waft of air right into Steve’s face though, and he can smell blood, werewolf blood. The realization freezes the fake smile on Steve’s face and he’s sending his fist into the guy’s face without a second thought.

The man never saw the punch coming, simply falls back into the house with a loud thud. None of the neighbors could have seen a thing, just Steve entering the house like he’s been invited and closing the door behind him.

But where is Christian? Where is this guy keeping him that the neighbors can’t hear? Steve steps over the man’s prone body, heads past the couch down the hallway when he sees it. The idiot left the trap door open. Steve doesn’t waste time wondering how the basement isn’t on the plans, maybe the guy kept it off intentionally, maybe it was an oversight, a late addition to the plans…

It looks like a little kid’s science experiment down there, except for the very real werewolf in the middle of the room, very carefully restrained, and very bloody. Steve has to avert his eyes at the sight of Christian’s tortured body, grabbing at the nearby counter to find the keys to the restraints.

The counter is orderly, everything in its place including a set of keys hanging there. Steve tries it on Christian’s nearest restrained arm. It’s impossible to miss what’s been going on here, experiments, seeing how much damage the werewolf body could heal. As Steve moves down to Christian’s leg though, he sees they also experimented with silver.

The wound is deep, black all around it up to Christian’s bony hip, but it’s not spreading, nor is Christian’s body fighting it, there’s nothing happening. Christian must’ve been sedated, Steve realizes and he knows he should have realized it earlier. There’s no way a werewolf wouldn’t have reacted to Steve’s commotion even if unconscious.

Releasing the last bond, Steve takes a moment to look at Christian. Still like a figurine, he looks peaceful in the midst of all the blood covering him. Steve slides his right arm underneath Christian’s shoulders, lifting his limp upper body til Steve can get a good grip, readjusting so that Christian’s head is resting against Steve’s shoulder.

Steve’s other arm goes underneath Christian’s legs, but as soon as Steve lifts Christian up, Christian’s head flops back off Steve’s shoulder. He’s limp in Steve’s grasp, a fainted maiden in a fairy tale and it’s then that Steve sees how vulnerable Christian looks, naked, exposed to these humans, taken apart like a clock in this annoyingly boring house.

He stops in the living room again, putting Christian on the couch and wrapping the injured werewolf in an ugly afghan. There’s no way he can get out of this house carrying a man without being noticeable if anyone is looking. But as he lays Christian in the backseat, all Steve can do is hope that no one’s looking.

The drive home is a constant struggle between wanting to speed like a demon and realizing that he can’t afford to be stopped for a speeding ticket at this point. The only consolation is that Christian is passed out through the whole trip.

It’s late afternoon when Steve gets back to his own house, a time when usually the whole town is out in the park, but his house is enough out of the way that he’s not terribly worried about everyone seeing them.

Gently he lays Christian down on his made bed, removing that damn afghan before taking out his phone and calling Doc. The man’s real name is Jim Beaver and at this moment Steve thinks he’s a godsend. Not every pack has a practicing doctor. It’s hard to forge medical degrees so that a werewolf could continue working as a doctor. But that’s another advantage of hiding in small towns, and the advantage of Aldis and his computers.

Course there isn’t often a need of a doctor in a werewolf pack. Steve paces as he waits for the man to pick up the phone, looking over to the bed and only now realizing how haphazardly he had laid Christian down, his hips are twisted over to the side, his right arm flung out.

“Hello.”

It takes a second for Steve to remember that he’s on the phone. “Doc?” he asks stupidly. “It’s Steve…well, it’s Christian, he’s hurt and…”

“Now calm down, son. Steve, is it?” Doc says exasperated.

“Yes, this is Steve. Christian’s hurt, it’s silver,” Steve gets right to the point.

“You at your house?” Doc questions shortly, voice suddenly serious.

“Yes, I…” Steve starts.

“I’ll be right there,” Doc cuts him off. “And let me call Morgan,” Doc orders.

Steve’s listening to the dial tone before he can respond to either statement. He hadn’t even thought about contacting the alpha, but now the worry creeps in. Jeff isn’t going to be happy about what Steve did.

Nevertheless, as Steve moves Christian’s limp, unresponsive body up the bed, he can’t help but be grateful that he had someone else to call, others that can help, others to depend on. He arranges Christian’s limbs more carefully this time and smoothes a stray hair back from Christian’s cheek before finding a blanket to cover the other man’s nakedness with. He wishes he could wipe away the blood, but he doesn’t know if it’s somehow important for Doc to see.

The knock on the door is hard and sudden, startling Steve. He takes one last look at Christian before going to the door, wishing to see some sign of life.

As soon as he opens the door, Doc strides right through, finding Christian and the bedroom easily. Steve ends up standing in the doorway, unsure what he should do as Doc flicks the blanket off of Christian, like Christian is simply a specimen again.

“Is he going to be alright?” Steve asks, stepping forward.

“Get some warm water. Let’s clean him up,” Doc orders instead of answering. Steve nods though the other man isn’t looking at him. He grabs a bowl of warm water from the kitchen and wash cloths from the bathroom.

“Get some bath towels,” Doc continues as Steve is putting the bowl on the bed. Doc is getting some tubes out of his medical bag which Steve is thankful for, thankful that it seems that there is something that can be done.

Doc holds Christian up while Steve pulls back the covers and puts towels over the bed sheets on the left side of the bed. Then they both begin wiping away the blood from tan skin. Doc purposefully starts by cleaning Christian’s arm for an IV and then continues down further, cleaning Christian’s groin and penis before inserting a catheter. Steve looks away at that, concentrating on cleaning the blood from Christian’s face, gently scrubbing off the dried blood there, smoothing the cloth down a hairless muscular chest and pulling Christian up to sitting, leaning on Steve as he cleans Christian’s back.

Steve is carefully laying Christian back down on the pillows when Jeff is suddenly standing there in the doorway. Jeff’s dark eyes are shadowed, only looking at Christian.

After a moment, Jeff addresses the doctor. “What’re we looking at, Jim?” Jeff asks, his voice low and gruff but he can’t completely hide the pain in it.

Doc finishes hanging a bag of liquid on the IV stand he assembled before turning to answer. “It’s about fifty/fifty. The wound on his leg is deep and he’s already exhausted from healing a lot of little, non-silver cuts.”

“What can you do?” Steve cuts in.

The men don’t admonish him for interrupting, but Jeff shakes his head as if he already knows the answer. “Nothing,” Doc says gruffly, for the first time showing dismay at the answers he has to give. “I’ll give him fluids to keep him hydrated, but we can only wait and see if he can survive this.”

Jeff’s hand goes to his face then, rubbing over his mouth and beard. The alpha’s pain is suddenly so palpable, Steve has to drop his eyes away, feeling like he’s intruding on a private moment.

“You shouldn’t be here when he wakes. It won’t be pretty,” Doc says to Jeff. “There’s nothing to be done anyway.”

“I can stay with him, right?” Steve interjects again. He doesn’t want to leave Christian, not after everything, he needs to know how Christian is doing. “It is my house,” he tries.

Doc looks at him a little quizzically but then he’s agreeing. “Yeah, I can’t be here all the time so I just need someone to watch him. Here, let me show you how to change the bags.

Doc shows him how to put on a new saline and urine bags, but then Jeff is calling Steve out into the living room. His worry for himself suddenly reappears as he follows, but Jeff still doesn’t seem angry, just focused, the alpha again instead of the grieving.

“If Christian makes it, we need to have a talk,” Jeff says simply.

“If Christian makes it…?” Steve repeats baffled.

“If he doesn’t, I assume you’ll be moving on,” Jeff answers, an assessing look in his eyes.

Steve hadn’t even thought of what he would do if Christian…dies. But he knows himself well enough to know that Jeff’s right, his first instinct would be to leave. He thinks of his friends though, of his life here, and he knows he’d miss it.

“Where did you find him?” Jeff changes the subject.

“At the house, the one Christian investigated before. I know you didn’t want us to barge in, but I could smell a werewolf as soon as the man opened the door. There was a basement there, not on the plans,” Steve babbles, trying to explain himself.

“Steve, I’m not angry. I don’t think your actions put the pack in danger, any more danger. But we still need to have a talk,” Jeff’s voice is adamant as he finishes.

Then Steve’s door is opening again, David bursting through with Riley, Beth, and Aldis right behind.

Doc’s covered Christian up to his chest in a blanket again, thankfully as his friends look upon the fallen. David’s angry, barely looking at Christian. It’s classic male behavior, Steve thinks, wanting revenge rather than taking care of the victim.

“Who did this to him?!” David snarls. He turns away quickly, like he can’t stand seeing Christian like that, moving instead to Jeff, wanting to know the details of what they’ll do now.

Steve realizes then that Jeff never touched Christian either and he wonders whether Christian even realizes how much he’s cared about.

Beth’s crying though, kneeling on the side of the mattress and stroking Christian’s face before Aldis pulls her back, wraps her up in his arms. Riley sits then, his hand reaching out to Christian’s chest, grasping at the covering blanket like a child, like a little brother realizing that his big brother isn’t actually infallible.

Doc whispers to them, tells them that Christian’s sedated, but they don’t need to be here when he wakes up. He tells them that he’s doing all he can for Christian. Jeff then motions them out, a last lingering look at Christian.

“I’ll make sure no one else comes by,” Jeff says before shutting the door behind them.

Steve feels a little like a guest in his own home which he doesn’t like, but when Doc puts a hand on his shoulder, he lets the man lead him into his own kitchen. He needs to be told what to do now.

“You should go ahead and eat something,” Doc says, taking a seat at Steve’s table. “I don’t know exactly when the sedative will wear off, but I do know when it does…he’s going to be in some major pain, Steve,” Doc says seriously. “He may scream and cry and writhe, but he won’t really be conscious. Just check on him occasionally, change the bags and make sure he doesn’t pull either out. And call me if anything changes, if he wakes up or if he…”

Doc trails off then, his professionalism broken momentarily. “Try to get some sleep because there’s nothing else to be done for him,” Doc finishes seriously. Then he’s standing again, making his way to the door with Steve following behind.

“I’ll be by in a few hours,” Doc says as goodbye.

As Steve shuts the door for the last time, he closes his eyes, wondering when his life took a turn for the surreal. He’s stunned simply by the fact that humans are hunting werewolves, by the fact that Christian saved his life and was tortured for it, might die for it, for him. Maybe he should have never come here. He doesn’t fit in here, all these people and their intertwined lives. Stopping himself from going to check on Christian, he instead makes himself a sandwich.

******************************

He’s finished the sandwich and is eating a few chips from the bag when he finally hears a sound from the bedroom, a low groan. Excited at the sign of life, he simply drops the bag and runs to the bedroom.

Christian’s moving sluggishly. His mouth fallen open, he groans again as his head moves side to side on the pillow, his legs kicking at the blanket until he finally gets it off, his hands clenching in the sheets underneath him.

Steve is so relieved his lips start to curve upwards in an unconscious smile. Yeah, Christian’s in pain, but he’s also alive and moving and breathing. He’s going to be ok.

Steve’s wondering about putting the blanket back on Christian when the other man’s body suddenly goes into a hard arch, only his head and shoulders and heels on the bed, and his hands still clenched tight as if holding on to the bed.

“Christian?” Steve can’t help calling the man’s name, but Christian’s jaw and eyes are shut tight, silent again. He’s no more aware now than when he was sedated.

It’s horrible to watch, all of Christian’s muscles are frozen, straining in response to overwhelming pain, and it just goes on and on. Steve collapses to sit on the bed himself. He gets it now, gets that Christian could still die in agony and he can’t do anything about it but watch.

Steve doesn’t know how long it’s been when Christian finally collapses back to the mattress, sweating and panting and writhing, kicking his legs out violently like he can shake off the silver’s poison. The black has expanded, inching up into the right side of Christian’s torso. After a few minutes, there’s a high-pitched whimper and Christian’s body arches involuntarily again.

Steve has to force himself from simply stonily watching the cycle, and he suddenly moves off the bed, grabbing the bowl from before and filling it with cool water this time. The next time Christian collapses, Steve’s there with a cool cloth to Christian’s feverish brow.

The words just spill out naturally, as if Christian can hear him, as if words will do anything to soothe this suffering. “Shhh,” Steve whispers gently. “It’s ok, you’re going to be ok.” He dips the cloth again and draws it down Christian’s straining chest, but he’s too afraid to touch the cloth to Christian’s pained legs.

Christian arches again and Steve moves back, unsure whether to touch him when he’s like that. Instead, Steve watches and waits the agonizing length of time for him to collapse again. As Steve waits he can’t help but to look at Christian’s beautiful naked body and remember when he had said he’d give anything to see Christian naked. Now Steve wishes he could take it back.

The cycle continues and Steve has just changed the bags for the first time when there’s a knock at the door. He’s surprised to realize it’s 6:30, but not surprised that it’s Doc at the door. He must have just gotten off at the clinic.

Doc charges in like he belongs and sets some foil covered plates on the table. “How is he?” he asks soberly as he comes over to where Steve still stands in the doorway.

The tears are flowing before Steve really thinks about the question and his hands move swiftly to cover his face. He simply can’t keep it in anymore, the emotions running through him after watching Christian in agony for hours and his shoulders begin to shake with sobs.

But Doc’s there, a gruff but comforting hand leading him to sit on the couch as the other man goes to check on the ‘patient’. Then Doc’s hand is back on his shoulder, a wordless approval before Doc is moving to the kitchen. Steve can hear the man opening the cupboards as he slumps forward, his elbows on his knees.

Steve continues crying, grabbing the box of tissues on the coffee table because Doc doesn’t seem to mind his outburst, didn’t tell him to calm down or anything similar. He needs a minute to himself and the other wolf lets him have it without judgment, seems to understand. Steve cleans his face and tries to blow his nose softly.

When Steve comes over to the kitchen, Doc is boiling water, making some tea he brought over. Steve scrubs at his red eyes one last time and tucks oily hair behind his ears. But Doc doesn’t acknowledge the way Steve looks.

“Rosalee made these dinners,” Doc starts, pouring the hot water into the mugs he set out. “You know they’d be in here a heartbeart, but this doesn’t need witnesses.”

Steve nods, peeling back the foil on the plate in front of him. He hadn’t really felt like eating but to hear that Rosalee made it, that his friends care…this community is caring for him as one of their own and he doesn’t know how he feels about that. The care comes with responsibility that he both wants and is afraid of because he’s valued his complete freedom for so long. Now he’s as entwined as the rest of them.

He wouldn’t be anywhere but with Christian through this, and right now, he’s more grateful than he can say that these people care about what’s happening in here, care for him during this, even grumpy Doc. They eat mostly in silence, Steve even drinks the tea Doc made, but the whole time he can hear Christian writhing on the sheets, the occasional whimper and whine. Rosalee’s a good cook but he can’t finish.

Doc cleans away the disposable plates and utensils before speaking, “You should take a shower. I’ll stay with him for a while,” Doc offers, but it’s not really an offer. Steve follows silently as Doc sits on the mattress, a hand actually reaching out to touch Christian, not as a doctor but to smooth hair back from Christian’s face even as Christian begins to arch again.

Steve lingers in the shower, enjoying the feel of the hot water, and taking advantage of the break Doc’s giving him. Idly, he wonders what Christian will think of how things played out when he wakes. Will he be upset that his friends, that Jeff isn’t here with him?

After he’s dried and dressed, damp hair curling on his neck, he and Doc change the sheets though it seems a lost cause with Christian sweating so much. Doc picks Christian up, holding him tight like an unruly baby even as he jerks and moans in Doc’s arms, Steve changing the sheets as quickly as he can.

Steve can’t resist running a cool cloth over Christian again afterwards, trying to comfort him again even if Christian may never know. Steve just can’t stand to see such blatant pain, the grimace on his face, the twisting of his body.

“How much longer?” Steve asks without thinking. He doesn’t want to sound demanding, as if Christian’s pain is an annoyance to him.

“Impossible to tell. Could be days on the IV,” Doc says honestly.

Steve nods, not wanting to complain further though the idea of Christian in agony for days makes him want to cry again. He’s already sure no human body could have survived this much, this long. His eyes are drawn to the black, the poison seeping through Christian’s body. It seems to have stopped having covered Christian’s kidney.

“Is it bad that the black spread?” Steve asks. Stupid he thinks, like the doctor didn’t fucking notice.

“Well, it’s not good, but I was expecting it to spread once the sedative wore off. If it continues, it’s not a good sign, but he can fight it,” Doc explains, sounding optimistic. But it could be wishful thinking on all their parts.

Doc gets up from his seat on the bed then, “After changing the bags one more time, you should get some sleep.” He takes the extra pillow into the living room then, helping to set up a makeshift bed on the couch. Steve follows reluctantly with another blanket.

Steve tries to follow Doc’s suggestion, he does, but later, lying on the couch, Steve can’t sleep. It’s not because it’s early, though it is, it’s because he can’t see Christian. He finds himself listening for every sound just to make sure Christian’s still alive, still breathing.

Ultimately he gets up, going to check on Christian again. He had left the lamp on, not wanting to leave Christian by himself in the dark, and the light throws odd shadows on Christian’s tortured muscles.

Steve puts his hand on Christian’s chest, ignoring the heat and sweat, ignoring the strain of muscles as Christian jerks and twitches and ultimately arches. He keeps his hand there just wanting to feel Christian alive and near.

He ends up putting the pillow and blanket on the floor beside the bed, setting the alarm on his cell phone to wake him up twice to change the bags every three hours. By the time the sun is rising again, he’s managed to sleep about seven hours.

Getting up, he heads first to the bathroom and then to change Christian’s bags again. He wants to wait to change the urine bag until right after Christian arches, but he waits and Christian never does, simply continues to writhe on the bed. That’s when he notices that the black has receded from Christian’s kidney to his hipbone.

“Thank fuck!” he says out loud without thinking.

To his amazement though, Christian’s eyelashes flutter purposefully at the sound even as he arches his back a little like a little kid who doesn’t want to wake up. When blue eyes open to show Steve the pain Christian is feeling, he almost wishes Christian was still out of it.

Christian bites back a moan as his eyes clear and confusion sets in. “Steve?” he gasps, before his eyes roll up in his head and he’s collapsing back in unconscious.

Steve starts to run toward where he left his phone on the floor when he remembers he needs to actually change the urine bag still. It’s not like he’s touching Christian’s penis to change the bag, but Steve is just praying that Christian doesn’t wake up again in the middle.

Then he’s running back to the phone.

“Mornin’?”

Doc’s barely finished the word when Steve starts, “Christian’s awake, or, he woke up, and the black receded some.”

“I’ll be there,” Doc says shortly, immediately hanging up.

Steve is still simply standing in the doorway staring at how Christian finally looks peaceful again when the knock comes. It’s been less than five minutes since he called.

Doc’s even smiling faintly when Steve lets him in. He goes immediately to the bedroom but stops in the doorway. “Go make yourself some breakfast,” Doc says gruffly. “I just want to see him alone for a minute, doctor to patient.”

Steve understands and readily backs away but he feels a little rebuffed as he goes to make himself some scrambled eggs and toast. There don’t seem to be secrets in a little town so why would Doc keep him out?

Doc comes out momentarily to ask for fresh sheets, but he rebuffs Steve’s offer to help. “Look,” Doc says. “He’s embarrassed. None of us are used to being weak anymore,” Doc shrugs, looking uncomfortable himself with Christian’s weakness.

Nodding, Steve hands him the sheets and lets him go. But Steve has a cup of coffee ready for the man when Doc comes out again.

Doc looks surprised and pleased at the thoughtful gesture, sipping as he takes a grateful seat at the kitchen table. “Boy’s gonna be fine,” Doc says, seeming a little smug. But after another sip of coffee, he sobers again. “Recovery’s gonna take a while though. He’s still in a lot of pain, probably keep him from sleeping.”

Steve doesn’t know how he feels, all his emotions churned up in his chest, lodged there. Christian’s alive, but he doesn’t want to see Steve, and he’s still in pain. What is he supposed to do with that?

“I’m gonna leave both the IV and the catheter in for now, so you’ll still have to change the bags, but he can have a few ice chips. No water though, no getting up or any other crazy notions he comes up with,” Doc continues, unaware of Steve’s turmoil.

“What?” Steve asks dumbly. “He still…I can take care of him still?”

The seemingly older man sighs and puts his coffee cup on the table. “Don’t let that idjit scare you off. Just cuz he’s scared of seeming weak, don’t mean he doesn’t need some…care.” Doc picks up his coffee again to finish it, but Steve would swear that Doc almost said something else instead of the word care.

Still Steve nods as Doc heads toward the door again. He thinks he can understand Christian’s frustrations, but he too is certain the beta needs a little comfort. Right now Christian’s not the beta, not a more dominant wolf, right now he’s sick and needs to be taken care of. And that, Steve can do.

Steve opens the door to the bedroom slowly, not wanting to startle Christian if he’s awake. Steve’s lips tighten at Christian obviously still in pain, his whole body moving restlessly, his knees up with feet flat.

As soon as Christian’s blue eyes look at Steve though, Christian’s unclenching his hands from their grip on the sheets, an awkward move to cover his naked groin even as his hips and chest arch and relax, shift and strain involuntarily. It looks like it takes effort for Christian to unclench his jaw to speaks, “I’m…Sorry, I can…the covers.”

He looks defeated as he turns his face away on the pillow, Adam’s apple moving as he swallows. Steve doesn’t speak until he’s sitting on the bed beside Christian again, putting a fresh bowl of cool water on the floor.

“It’s fine. Whatever makes your legs feel better,” Steve says soothingly.

“Right,” Christian chokes out, the sound of the word painful. “You’ve seen…all any-way,” he says ruefully, gesturing mortified at the catheter. But then Christian’s pressing the crown of his head back into the pillow, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets as he arches a little again.

As soon as Christian’s back is on the mattress again, Steve’s dabbing the cool washcloth on Christian’s forehead, hopeful that this time it actually will make Christian feel better.

Christian’s muscles continue to strain as his head flops to the side to look at Steve, quizzical and anguished, so much pain in those blue eyes, like a little boy who doesn’t understand why this is happening to him.

“What…you doin’? Christian slurs. “Doc says…I’ll b-be fine. No need for…you ta…do that,” Christian stops and swallows again, obviously frustrated by his body’s failings.

Steve covers his sigh by dipping the cloth into the water again. “I just want to help you feel better. Doesn’t that make you feel better?” Steve asks as he draws the cool cloth down Christian’s bare chest.

He doesn’t realize how it might be taken until Christian’s silent and staring at him with an unreadable expression. But Steve won’t be scared away, because he does mean it like that as he draws the cloth up to Christian’s vulnerable throat, cooling the thin skin there.

He gives up then though, taking the cloth away. Christian just looks so miserable that he’ll do whatever Christian wants, even leave. It’s like Christian’s being tortured in front of him and Christian’s trying to hide it, looking away and biting back sounds, tensing up like he can stop the way his body’s moving. Steve can’t stand it.

“Tell me what’ll make things better?” Steve implores, hoping that his sincerity is seeping out his pores as he catches Christian’s eyes, holds them.

Christian bites his lip, in too much pain to answer right then, but Steve waits until Christian answers on a breath, “Talk to me.” His mouth stays open, panting at the ceiling once, twice, before continuing, “Tell me about Steve.”

Surprised, Steve smiles coyly before looking away. Schooling his expression, he has to admit it makes sense. What Christian really needs is to keep his mind off the pain, off the fact that Steve is staring at him as the sick one.

“Well, once upon a time there was a man who was turned into a werewolf…” Steve starts, humorously.

“What about…family?” Christian interrupts, apparently actually interested in the story as more than a distraction.

Steve smiles genuinely as he thinks about his human family. “I was an only child, with a great mom and Dad. They were freethinkers and actually encouraged me to follow my dreams to Hollywood.”

“You an actor?” Christian says with an attempt at a smile that disintegrates into a grimace and then Christian is chewing on his bottom lip again and looking away in pain.

“No, a musician. I played guitar and piano, and I created music for the first talking pictures.” It’s been so long since he talked about these things, the distant past. He’s always so busy thinking and talking about what he wants to do next, but it feels good to remember, to share.

Christian arches again, oily hair sticking to his sweaty face and stubble. Steve smoothes the dark strands back before wiping Christian’s face with the cool cloth. His hand lingers a little on the side of Christian’s face, maybe because it feels intimate to share these things.

Closing his eyes and swallowing, Christian prompts Steve to continue, “Who bit you?”

Steve knows that in most packs, only the alpha can turn humans or approve humans to be turned, but it wasn’t like that in LA. It’s hard to explain all the differences. Steve used to think that LA was so much more vibrant, so much more alive and human, but after Hawaii, after living here in this small town, now Steve thinks that LA wasn’t alive at all, certainly wasn’t human.

“LA is so big, so…anonymous,” Steve tries. “The pack there is very loose. Werewolves kinda do what they want. It was a low ranking wolf who liked my talent, my genius he said. He attacked me coming out of a party one night.”

“That must’ve…been h-hard,” Christian comments. Steve nods in agreement. To be attacked in the middle of LA, it was definitely traumatic. Much less what happened after.

“I didn’t even know him that well,” Steve says with a touch of bitterness. He wouldn’t trade what he had, but the selfishness of his so-called maker still grated on him. “I just knew him from around the sets. Then he and his mate just show up on my doorstep right before my first change. It was a lot to take in.”

Steve pauses there, while Christian’s biting his lip again. He wonders if that’s why, why he’s so obsessed with independence. He came from a small family and moved away, he didn’t have an emotional bond with his maker, didn’t have a pack to really belong to in the middle of the fake glamour that was and is LA.

“But…you stayed,” Christian interrupts Steve’s thoughts.

“Yeah, I did,” Steve muses. “At first, I still had my job, my friends, my family. You have to understand LA…” Steve pauses as he thinks how to explain himself. “Everything seemed to change so fast, there was always something, a new music scene, new movies, new stars, new cultural movements. Every time something ended, I was already caught up in something else, and LA was big enough to hide in.”

Christian interrupts involuntarily this time, pressing his head back into the pillow, a low agonizing whine escaping. Christian stares determinedly at the ceiling as his blue eyes fill with tears, tears that escape as he closes his eyes, trailing down the sides of his face into his hair. Steve’s hand itches to wipe that moisture away, but not only does he not think that intimacy is welcome, he doesn’t know if it would help, if touching just brings Christian more pain.

“…the pack?” Christian prompts, his voice breathless and desperate.

Steve nods, knowing he’s not doing a very good job of distracting either of them. “There was no pack, not like there is here. We lived all over the city, didn’t meet regularly or anything. Most interactions were just running into each other. There were no responsibilities towards each other unless something was incredibly wrong.”

“But…we’re pack…anim-mals?” Christian asks, seemingly honestly confused at the idea of being the lone wolf.

“We’re also human,” Steve says and shrugs. “Being a werewolf didn’t really change much of my life in LA. I re-discovered the wolf when I left.”

“Why did you…?” Christian asks, his right leg thumping against the bed.

“In LA, I only conformed, so I left to create myself, find myself.” Steve smiles, “As cliché as that sounds.”

Christian tries a smile again, but the lines of tension are carved on his face. He’s lost weight just since Steve met him in the forest, worn out and sallow. “Did you find…you?”

Chuckling a little, Steve answers, “Maybe. Here I’ve definitely found…community. I found the person I want to be. Someone people can depend on. And I like having others to turn to.”

“I also liked Hawaii,” Steve continues. “It definitely appealed to the beach bum in me. You wouldn’t believe how beautiful it is there.”

Christian bites his lip and turns his face away, but his body isn’t tense like it’s a reaction to pain. It seems like Christian is closing himself off, putting up those shields. Steve keeps talking, trying to reconnect though it’s hard to do without asking questions, without Christian really being able to participate in the conversation.

“Maybe I’ll continue south sometime, to Mexico. I’ve vacationed there…” Steve trails off, confused as to what changed.

There’s an awkward moment of silence as Steve watches Christian arch his back a little and pant. It’s not til Steve looks at Christian’s legs, sees the way his knees are bent with his legs on the mattress and right between Steve’s eyes are drawn to the catheter. It’s then he remembers that it’s about time to change the bags, not something he’s looking forward to particularly now.

Steve lays a cautious hand on Christian’s side, saying, “Are you feeling worse? Let me change this…”

Steve trails off as he gets off the bed, heading first to change the safer IV bag. He definitely notices how even as he moves to the other side of the bed, Christian’s head turns away again, avoiding looking at him.

It doesn’t take long to put on a new bag of saline solution though, and then there’s nothing else but to change the urine bag. His hand reaches out for Christian’s knee, but Steve stops it before it lands. The last thing he wants to do is make thing worse.

There’s nothing to be done about the awkwardness though as Steve kneels at the foot of the bed, directly between Christian’s still raised and spread legs. “I’m just gonna change this bag now,” Steve says in warning, even as he sees Christian’s left knee fall towards the other, as if he can shield his modesty all of a sudden.

Steve’s hands aren’t even within a foot of Christian’s dick, but Steve can only imagine how embarrassed he’d be if someone had to deal with his urine. He changes the bag as quickly as possible.

Standing with the full bag, Steve thinks fast. “Hey, Doc says you can have some ice chips. Want some?”

Steve doesn’t wait for an answer, simply goes into the kitchen to dispose of the bag and get the ice. Better to have something for them to do right after that he thinks.

He returns to his seat by Christian’s side but the other man won’t look at him, seemingly trapped with only his own pain now. One look at Christian’s hands though, tells Steve he won’t be able to feed himself. Christian’s hands have been clenched in the sheets this whole time. They’ve got to be cramping by now Steve knows.

Steve runs the back of his knuckles down Christian’s upturned cheek to get Christian’s attention. Christian doesn’t turn his head at the touch, not until Steve is holding a small chip to the edge of Christian’s bitten red lips. Then Christian turns only enough to take the ice.

Christian doesn’t look at him, even as Steve presses another ice chip to his lips. But as soon as Christian takes it, his body’s arching and Christian’s choking, rasping to breathe then coughing as he turns his head back to the side.

“Christian?” Steve says stupidly, his hands on Christian’s shoulders helping to turn the other man more to the side. A few more coughs and Christian is breathing normally again though, tears pooling along his nose.

Steve can’t stop himself from brushing the liquid away this time, his thumb sweeping under Christian’s eyes, his hands then brushing over Christian’s hair too in comfort. Slowly, Christian turns back to center, opening his eyes to look at the ceiling, lashes clumped together.

“…fine,” Christian says coughing again. Steve gets the feeling that if Christian could push his solicitous hands away, Christian would. But Steve still doesn’t understand, he would swear that earlier they had some intimacy, some understanding and now it’s just gone.

Grudgingly, Steve takes his hands away though, putting the cup of ice down on the bedside table. When he turns back, Christian is finally looking at him again, but his gaze is flat.

“Tell me,” Christian starts, “about…old Holly-wood.”

Christian looks away again after speaking, but Steve takes it as an olive branch. Before Christian seemed really interested in his life, in him, and Christian is exhausted and hurt. It’s not like he can expect Christian to be chipper and interested, Steve tells himself.

Steve makes himself comfortable, grabbing his pillow from the floor and lying on his stomach before he starts to speak. Once he gets started though, the stories just come spilling out, moving from talking about Al Jolson to Helene Costello.

An unexpectedly knock at the door has Christian nearly jumping out of his skin. Those baby blues focus on Steve for a moment again, embarrassed and pleading before Christian apparently remembers he’s not looking at Steve, not asking anything of Steve and he looks away. Steve bites his tongue but closes the bedroom door on his way out.

It’s just Doc which Steve suspected. He is surprised that it’s already late afternoon though.

“How’s it going?” Doc asks, setting another foil wrapped plate on the kitchen table, just one this time.

Unfortunately, Steve just doesn’t have an answer to that question. “Fine, I guess,” he finally answers, getting himself a can of Coke before sitting at the table.

“What’s the fool done now?” Doc asks with fond exasperation.

“Nothing,” Steve says quickly. “He hasn’t done anything.” Steve knows that Doc is picking up on the disappointment in his voice though. They’re both quiet for a moment, before Doc puts his hand on the bedroom doorknob.

“Well, you eat and I’ll sit with him for a minute,” Doc says.

Steve watches Doc enter, closing the door behind him. Steve wants so desperately to hear what they’re saying, to see how Christian interacts with Doc. It takes him a minute to concentrate on his meal instead of straining to hear the sound of voices.

When he’s finished eating though, he’s back to staring at the door, and he wonders if he should knock and let Doc know he doesn’t have to stay any longer. He doesn’t, he gives them time and when Doc does come out he’s carrying the changed bags.

“I can stay,” Doc offers warily, but he doesn’t seem at all surprised when Steve rejects the offer.

“We’re fine,” Steve says, trying a smile.

Still after Doc leaves again, Steve is slow to return to the bedroom. He wonders how long this will last, Christian awake and in pain, and Steve looks to Christian’s thighs. The left thigh is basically black-free except for the actual slash, and the black on the right thigh is now contained to the thigh. Steve feels a surge of relief at the visible sign that Christian’s healing so quickly. It seems miraculous even though they’re werewolves, miraculous that any of this happened. What if he had showed up just a little later, what if he hadn’t gone after Christian at all?

Christian actually looks at him as he sits, and incongruously, Christian now looks defeated, even Christian’s restless writhing is sluggish.

“Why…why come for…me?” Christian asks.

“I had to,” Steve says, unsure how to describe his motives when he can’t explain them to himself, and embarrassed by the implication of his words. “Because it was you.”

If anything Christian looks more wretched at the answer. Then Christian is looking away again, closing himself off. “Tell me about Hawaii,” Christian tells him softly.

Steve talks. He changes the bags and goes the bathroom and gets a glass of water for himself. And sometime around nine pm, he realizes Christian’s asleep. At first Steve’s happy, smiling at the calm peaceful expression on Christian’s gaunt face, but then he worries, is Christian supposed to be sleeping?

He goes into the kitchen to call Doc, talking before Doc’s gotten out a whole greeting.

“He’s asleep. Is that bad?”

“No,” Doc says wearily, like he’s dealing with an unruly child. “That’s good. Means he’s not in so much pain, he’s mostly healed.”

“Oh,” Steve exhales. He wants to be happy, but he hates for Christian to leave him so soon, now with this distance between them. “So he’s back to normal.”

“Nope,” Doc says with a little evil laugh. “Means the hard part’s just starting. He’s exhausted all of his reserves, so he’ll need help with eating and drinking and walking to the bathroom and showering, and…”

Doc trails off, but that extra and hangs in the air between them, signifying something not said. “And what?” Steve prompts.

“And it means you’ll have visitors. Everyone will want to see him, and you,” Doc’s voice is a little smug.

“Uhhh,” Steve stutters. He doesn’t know how he feels about that either. It’s not like he’s been anti-social since he’s been in Oklahoma, but it seems odd, to be in the middle of this reunion, in the middle of this community. He’s afraid the farther he falls into this life, the harder it’ll be to get out.

“Enjoy the night,” Doc says hanging up on him.

Steve drifts on autopilot back into the bedroom, turning out the overhead light and turning on a lamp. He can’t help just watching Christian a little while, the way his hands have finally released the sheet and his legs have fallen to the side. After last night, it’s an all too welcome sight to see Christian relaxed and vulnerable. Steve can’t believe he’s been entrusted with this, with keeping this wolf safe in his neediest moment.

Rubbing his hand over the scruff on his face, Steve goes to take a shower and trim his beard. But he still can’t sleep on that couch and lies on the floor again.

****************************

The phone alarm gets Steve up to change the bags, but Christian continues to sleep peacefully into the morning, not even stirring when Doc knocks on the door. Steve’s relieved it’s only Doc, though the man comes in with a whole bag of stuff.

“This is a breakfast casserole from Danneel,” Doc says in greeting, pulling out the dish from the bag and putting it on the table. “Better be ready for the women to bring a lot of food,” he mutters mostly to himself. Then he brings out a tub of liquid. “And this is for Christian, just clear soup for now.”

“Christian’s not awake yet,” Steve says.

Doc nods as if the news is not unexpected. “He’s crashed, but I know he’d want to be presentable before people start to show up.”

Steve doesn’t understand the idea of waking up a sick person to get them ready for visitors, but he follows Doc into the bedroom where Christian is in fact starting to stir. He moves listlessly, tiny lines around his eyes as he squints up at them.

“How d’you feel?” Steve asks, squatting down to Christian’s level.

“Tired,” Christian answers honestly. Christian frowns then as he lifts his arm to rub his unshaven face, his arm looking heavy and uncoordinated. His hand thumps against the bed as he drops it.

“Feel up to eating something?” Steve asks.

“Really?” Christian responds, child-like.

“Just soup,” Doc interjects and Christian’s face falls. “You’ll eat it and you’ll like it,” Doc says even as he’s walking back into the kitchen to get the soup.

Steve smiles humorously before realizing he’s going to have to help Christian sit up. And after yesterday, he’s not sure if Christian will accept his help. For the first time in hours, he’s caught again by the intimacy of this, of sickness in general, of Christian’s nakedness when everyone else is clothed.

“Let me help you sit up,” Steve says in warning, and Christian’s too exhausted to respond before Steve has one hand sliding under Christian’s neck and the other under his sweaty lower back. Steve pulls Christian up to sitting, shifting his grip entirely to one hand holding Christian’s head and his forearm supporting down Christian’s spine so he can pile pillows behind Christian.

“Thanks,” Christian says like he’s trying to catch up. “I’m so tired…?” he says slightly questioning.

“Yeah, you’re about as weak as a newborn cub,” Doc says re-entering the room. “So you’re gonna have to let us help.”

Christian’s still staring at them confused when Doc hands over the bowl to Steve. Cautiously Steve lifts a spoonful of lukewarm liquid to Christian’s mouth, pleasantly surprised as lips open easily. But he only gives a few spoonfuls before Christian turns his face away saying he needs a break.

“It’s alright,” Doc says even as Steve’s leveling a questioning look at him. “It’ll take a while for his system to get up and running.”

Doc moves closer to the bed, prompting Steve to move away with the bowl. Lifting Christian’s arm, Doc gestures to the IV, saying, “I’m gonna go ahead and take out these, ok?”

“Good,” Christian replies, his voice a little stronger.

Doc quickly removes the IV, pressing a piece of cotton into Christian’s elbow. “Why don’t you go start a bath,” Doc suggests to Steve.

Steve understands the need for privacy before removing the catheter, and he quickly moves toward the bathroom. “Fuck,” he hears Christian swear over the sound of running water. Steve can’t help smiling at the outburst, the best sign yet that Christian is getting better, but he also waits an extra minute to control himself before he comes out of the bathroom.

When he does come out, he sees Christian’s hands are on his lower abdomen like he wanted to reach down and protect his dick but just didn’t have enough energy. And his eyes are much more wide awake now, Steve notes humorously.

“Ready for a bath?” Steve asks but he doesn’t wait for Christian’s answer, simply picks the man up bridal style. But this time Christian’s hands grasp at his tshirt, Christian’s head leaning voluntarily against his shoulder. There’s not enough time for complaints.

Christian hisses as he’s placed in the hot water and it takes Steve looking at his face to see that it’s a sound of pleasure. Christian relaxes into it even as he protests, “You don’t have to do this…”

“Just enjoy it,” Steve says lightly.

Christian blushes slightly, obviously taking the words as flirtatious and Steve smiles.

“For the love of…,” Doc exclaims from the doorway at their behavior. “I’m going to change the bedding.”

“Hey, it’s not a big deal,” Steve says softly, busying himself with putting some shower gel in the water as well as on the washcloth. Christian’s limp lying against the back of the tub, but his eyes are wide, staring at the cloth as it strokes over his chest. “You’re the beta, so who cares if you need a little help right now. You’ve helped this pack so much…” Steve continues.

Steve trails off, feeling like he’s said too much. He leans Christian forward then almost as an excuse to end their conversation, scrubbing Christian’s back before he’s lifting each arm out of the water, muscles more defined with the weight that’s dropped off. Fortunately Christian seems too tired to get really upset about this, certainly too tired to fight as his eyelids half close.

Unfortunately then there’s nothing else to do then but drag the cloth lower, over Christian’s belly that trembles at the touch, lower to scrub sweat and blood out of wiry dark hair. His grip is firm as the washcloth circles Christian’s dick and strokes lower, the sensitive flesh firming at the friction.

Steve keeps his eyes averted from Christian’s face as he uses his other hand to reach down into the water and grab around Christian’s waist, lifting him slightly to wash Christian’s behind, but as he moves away to wash down Christian’s leg, muscular thigh and calf, vulnerable bare feet, Steve could swear that Christian’s watching him, the muscles of his arm, the soaked patches of his tshirt.

Christian’s lower lip disappears between white teeth again as Steve lifts one foot out of the water. Steve tries to finish as quickly as possible.

“Close your eyes,” Steve whispers as he brings the washcloth over Christian’s face, scrubbing dried blood out of dark stubble.

“Fuck, how long is it?” Christian says, sounding tired still even as he curses.

“What?” Steve asks, caught off guard and thinking Christian’s asking about the time.

“My beard,” Christian explains, looking slightly amused.

Steve smiles. “Not as long as a beard, but almost as long as mine. You normally use an electric razor?” Steve asks. “I only have a trimmer or I could shave it all.”

Doc pokes his head in then, looking quite smug. “Good excuse to shave it all. It’ll make you look less sick, Christian.”

“I didn’t…” Christian starts. “I didn’t mean you had to…”

“It’s alright,” Steve says again, already moving to get shaving cream and a fresh razor. “I don’t mind helping.”

Christian’s head is already leaned back against the back of the tub so Steve easily applies the shaving cream, heat from the bath has already softened the hair. It’s startling how much trust Christian is showing as he closes his eyes while Steve shaves him. Though, Steve supposes he doesn’t exactly have a lot of choice. And actually Christian is reacting pretty well to the loss of control, better than Steve himself probably would have. Steve is reminded of Doc telling him that Christian needed some ‘care’. Maybe there is more to the sentence.

Course even after he’s shaved Christian’s face, probably the only time in the past year Steve has seen the beta clean shaven, he still has Christian’s long hair. The water’s already turned cool.

Standing, Steve grabs the hand held showerhead and turns on the water. “Hey, Doc,” he yells. “Little help.”

It’s a tight squeeze when Doc comes in the room, not saying anything more about their flirtation. Steve hands over the showerhead as he kneels down next to the tub again. Christian watches him silently through long lashes as Steve slides an arm under Christian to support his head and neck at a steep angle.

“Just spray his hair,” Steve instructs, watching as Doc is unexpectedly gentle with the spray.

Steve makes a grab at the shampoo, but Doc is there, managing to get the bottle open without spraying water all around the room and squeeze it into Steve’s hand. That’s when Steve sees that Christian’s hands are clenched on the side of the tub, his exhausted arms shaking.

“Just relax,” Steve whispers again as he begins to rub the shampoo in one-handed. And Christian does relax, almost gratefully. Steve’s arms tire quickly but he draws it out as much as possible with first the shampoo and then the conditioner.

But Doc pulls the plug before Christian actually falls asleep, grabbing a towel as Steve sprays Christian down with clean water a last time. It feels like the intimacy has just been stolen, like Steve is simply spraying down his dog or car.

Steve’s tshirt is soaked as he picks Christian up under his arms, standing him up for Doc to envelope in a towel, leaving Steve to dry off Christian’s limbs with a second towel. Christian is limp like a ragdoll and clearly uncomfortable with Doc holding him. He tries to hurry up.

Steve’s struggling unsuccessfully to dry Christian’s hair when the doorbell rings. “My God, they’re here” Steve mutters.

Together, he and Doc carry Christian back into the bedroom, dressing Christian’s limp body in some of Steve’s clothes, a large tshirt and loose boxers. The doorbell seems to have woken Christian up again, and he struggles to sit up himself, his hands inching towards the boxers himself, but Steve’s in too much of a rush now to let him help.

Doc goes to the door then, closing the bedroom door behind him as Steve is still getting Christian propped up on the pillows and tucked into the blankets. He feels suddenly rushed and embarrassed, positioning Christian like a doll instead of a human.

“I can’t believe they’re here already,” Steve mumbles. Christian was just on his deathbed, he thinks.

“The joys of small town livin’,” Christian says, his voice flat and eyes averted.

“They care,” Steve defends.

Christian sort of smiles at that, lifting his head a little but not meeting Steve’s eyes, “That’s the joy.”

Steve’s startled by the response but then the door opens, Jeff striding through. Christian’s entire demeanor changes with the alpha’s presence, he morphs from a competent adult, a dominant wolf to a chastised little boy ducking his face in shame.

“Morgan, I’m sorry…” Christian starts.

“Stop,” Jeff’s voice rumbles out. Steve doesn’t know whether he ought to leave or stay and protect Christian.

Jeff’s slow as he crosses the room then, reaching down to grasp the beta’s hand. But Jeff’s dark eyes don’t meet Christian’s as he speaks again. “Thank god, you’re…alive.”

Doc enters then with a chair for the visitors to sit in and his dark eyes latch onto Steve, a silent communication that has Steve standing up from the bed. Whether he wants to protect Christian or not, he needs to give the man a little privacy.

Steve grabs a dry tshirt before leaving the bedroom, changing shirts quickly standing at his bureau. Closing the door behind him, Steve exits the bedroom to see Jensen just coming in his front door. His friend rushes him, pulling him into a hug with long arms. “What the fuck were you thinking?” Jensen whispers harshly.

Backing away, Steve looks at the hard, worried expression on his normally calm friend’s face. He didn’t realize how much his decision impacted other people.

But Steve doesn’t get time to talk further because there’s Danneel hugging him and giving him another casserole, and then Jared wrapping him up in a giant hug and asking if he’s doing ok. There’s Estella Warren and Michael Weatherly and more casseroles and well-wishes and hugs. Even Beth and Aldis come up to him.

“I don’t cook,” Beth says reasonably, handing Steve a box of microwaveable popcorn.

“I don’t either,” Aldis pipes up, putting a couple two liter bottles of Sprite on Steve’s table. “But aren’t bubbly drinks good for sick people?”

Riley comes out of nowhere to give him a hug. “I didn’t say thank you before, man. With Christian just lying there…”

Riley covers his mouth with a hand for a moment as emotion overwhelms him. Steve’s kinda glad someone actually brought up vividly what they’re all doing here.

But then Jeff’s coming out of the bedroom, and Parker and Aldis move toward the door. Steve looks away, seeing Doc carrying a bowl into the bedroom too, but Steve still notices when Jeff beckons him over.

Steve considers refusing, it’s his house and he doesn’t relish the idea of submitting to anyone, but in the end he does. He wants to know what Jeff has to say, and strangely, he wants the man’s approval.

Jeff has a seat on the couch and Steve joins him there. “Christian survived,” Steve starts, his tone aggressive.

But Jeff simply ignores his tone, saying firmly, “Christian doesn’t need someone else to walk out on him.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve says carefully, not wanting to give away that anything flirtatious is happening between him and Christian.

“Christian’s been abandoned before,” Jeff re-iterates. “He needs someone for himself, not the pack, someone who will put him first. So if you’re going to leave, do it now.”

“You think something’s going on between Christian and me?” Steve asks, stupidly.

Finally Jeff cracks a smile. “You two are not nearly as subtle as you think.”

Jeff starts to get up then, like the conversation is finished after he says he knows they’re flirting like it’s no big deal and then dropping some cryptic warnings. “You’re not gonna say anything about me disobeying?” Steve questions.

“I told you it didn’t put the pack in immediate risk. First you decide if Christian is worth staying for and then we’ll talk about you falling in line,” Jeff explains.

Jeff walks away then, leaving Steve still confused. He’s still staring after Jeff who parts the crowd easily when Beth plops herself down beside him.

“He said you’re not an outsider too, didn’t he?” she asks.

“What?” Steve says, confused about what conversation she seems to be continuing.

“He said it too. You’re not an outsider in the pack except to yourself. Everybody’s already accepted you,” she explains.

“What about David?” Steve asks, feeling a perverse need to argue with this woman.

“He just doesn’t like you,” she says with a smile. Then she shrugs. “He loves Christian, so he’s a little protective, maybe a little jealous of someone coming between them.”

She turns her head towards the bedroom door then and Steve looks in that direction to see David standing by the closed bedroom door, his hand on the handle but he’s not opening it.

“Christian has a lot of responsibilities,” Beth says quietly, her voice completely honest and sincere. “We don’t often remember to say thank you or tell him he’s appreciated, and then something like this happens.”

Steve nods in grudging understanding. He’s wondering what other wisdom she’ll share with him when she suddenly kisses his scruffy cheek, then leaves. But he’s not surprised when he’s not alone for long, a plastic cup of iced tea one of the women probably brought bumping his shoulder.

“C’mon, man,” Jensen says. “Let’s go outside for a minute.”

Steve takes a drink gratefully as he follows outside to his porch swing. He does love this porch, loves feeling part of a community instead of being inside all the time, inside his own head all the time.

“I can’t believe you fucking did it, you saved Christian. I didn’t even hear about it til you were already back and safe, and I still freaked out,” Jensen breaks the silence.

Steve smiles mostly to himself, still thinking. “It’s been a long time since someone was worried for me, someone who actually knew what I’m capable of.”

Bumping his arm, Jensen smiles, “We’d like to keep you around, at least for your cooking.”

Steve’s smile widens at the friendly ribbing, but then his humor dims as his thoughts turn back to Beth and Jeff’s words, back to the idea of staying. “All these people,” Steve muses, “they all care, but…I don’t know if I can stay.”

“Why not?” Jensen asks reasonably, not asking what brought on this conversation to begin with.

Steve ducks his head, long blonde hair shadowing his face for a moment. “What if I want something different, something new?”

“That’s not the real reason. You don’t want to travel the world alone forever,” Jensen says gently.

“All these people…” Steve tries again. “What if I can’t live up to that? Now they think I’m a hero and I’m not. I like to be alone, and sometimes I can be moody, and…what if I don’t always do what I’m told, what if I’m not someone these people can depend on?”

Jensen smiles then, like he’s got a secret. “That’s the point. Look around, Steve. Do you think I always do what I’m supposed to? Do you look at Beth and think she’s terribly responsible? We all screw up from time to time, but we care about each other. It doesn’t mean we don’t fight or get reprimanded, it means we forgive each other.”

“But Christian,” Steve argues. “He’s the reprimand-er.”

“It’s isolating for him, we can all see it. He’s not only the guy who tells you when you’ve stepped out of line, he’s also the guy who’s there for you when no one else is. It’s hard to just hang out with the guy who knows all your secrets, harder still to say thank you.” Jensen’s eyes are serious and distant, and Steve knows there’s a story there, a story between Jensen and Christian and Steve won’t ask about it.

“Why would he want to be with someone like me?” Steve whispers.

“Because you cared enough to rescue him,” Jensen answers immediately. “He just needs someone who cares. And you’re fun, and funky and creative and I bet Christian’s just been waiting to let it all out,” Jensen smiles again.

Steve laughs a little and sits back, a little embarrassed by this outpouring of emotion, his sudden need for validation, but Jensen is just chilling on the porch swing, drinking his iced tea like nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

“Besides, it’s not like we never leave,” Jensen continues with a smirk. “That would be boring. We just have somewhere we can always come back to.”

Steve has to laugh at his friend then. He thought small town people were open books, but now he’s discovering there’s a lot beneath the surface he couldn’t see at first glance. With a sigh, he stands up. “Guess I should get back in there. Christian really doesn’t need all this activity.”

He’s already inside before he realizes he sounded like Christian’s momma. Fortunately, most people seem to understand, patting Steve on the shoulder as they leave. The table that he put the casseroles on is clean, someone must have put them in the refrigerator while he was occupied.

Steve debates knocking on the still closed bedroom door, but he doesn’t want to risk waking Christian up. When he opens the door, he immediately sees Christian slumped back on the pillows propping him up, fast asleep. He’s surprised to see David actually in the room though, sitting quietly in the chair by the bed. Steve’s even more surprised when he notices David is holding Christian’s hand on his lap.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Steve says softly. He turns to go back out when David looks up with red eyes.

“No,” David whispers obviously concerned himself of waking Christian. “I should go.” Carefully placing Christian’s hand on the unconscious man’s lap, he stands, quickly moving towards the door. But he doesn’t leave without whispering, “Thanks.”

Steve doesn’t know what to do after David leaves. He feels exhausted, particularly emotionally. Standing there, he wonders whether he should lay Christian down or whether he should just let the man sleep propped up when Doc walks in through the still open door.

Steve had no idea that Doc was still here but he’s grateful. Doc moves over to Christian, removing the extra pillows so Christian can lie down. Unsurprisingly, Christian begins to stir.

Doc sighs, muttering, “Course.” He immediately starts to uncover Christian from the blankets though, sliding his arms underneath Christian’s back.

“Steve,” Doc calls. “Take this bowl into the kitchen and go ahead and warm up some more soup. I’ll take him to the bathroom,” Doc says.

Steve’s grabbing the empty bowl on the bedside table as Doc carries Christian away when he hears Christian grumbling, “Do I not get an opinion ever again?”

*********************************

Christian’s tucked up back in bed when Steve comes back with the soup. Despite the grumbling, Christian looks relaxed, happy perhaps to have seen so many people that matter to him, though Steve has no idea how many people Christian actually saw.

He’s even moving a little more, his legs rucking up the blanket a little. “Do your legs still hurt?” Steve asks, sitting down in the chair still by the bed.

Christian bites his lip then, a gesture Steve is beginning to understand means Christian is biting back pain. But of course what Christian says is, “Just a little.”

Steve has to let it go though. It’s not like he can do anything to ease the pain anyway, so he simply lifts a spoonful to Christian’s lips. Christian’s strong enough now that he brings his hands up, fingers brushing Steve’s forearms for a minute before he tires.

“He should drink as much of this as possible,” Doc says then. “There’s also Gatorade in the fridge if he wants something cold, and some plain chicken and rice he can try to eat tonight.”

“He’s right here,” Christian mumbles, soup in his mouth.

Doc just gives him a look. “If you eat you’ll get some strength back faster, but it’ll be a while for you to be a hundred percent again.”

Christian’s good humor sours some at the reminder, dropping his eyes to the spoon as Steve continues to feed him. The bowl is almost gone when Christian starts to cough and choke, and then heave.

“Shit,” Steve breathes, holding a napkin to Christian’s face and praying that Christian doesn’t lose everything he’s eaten.

Christian’s hand comes up to grab at Steve’s forearm again as the momentary heaving stops and Christian coughs again.

“Are you ok?” Steve asks. He can’t help the way his other hand is tangled in the back of dark hair, rubbing soothing circles into Christian’s scalp.

“You idjit,” Doc interjects. “Eating more than your stomach can handle ain’t gonna get you stronger faster.”

Christian stiffens, looking embarrassed even though only half his face is visible. Steve wipes Christian’s mouth as the coughing subsides, drawing back.

Christian’s heavy hands are wiping away tears from the coughing fit when Doc pats his back and starts to move towards the door. “Ok boys,” Doc says. “Just make sure he gets up and walks some tonight or tomorrow morning, and call me if ya need anything.”

“Thanks,” Steve calls out even as Doc is disappearing.

“Sorry,” Christian says hoarsely as Steve turns back around.

“It’s alright,” Steve says, laying a hand on top of Christian’s on the bed. “I know it’s hard, but just take it easy.” Steve actually can’t imagine how hard this must be for Christian, but he’s trying.

Steve squeezes Christian’s hand a bit before letting go. “I’m sure you’re getting bored. I could try to hook up the tv in here or I don’t know if you could hold up a book…” Steve rambles.

“Nah,” Christian says. “I’m not gonna be awake much longer I bet. But…I can sleep on the couch. I hate putting you out of your own bed.”

“No, it’s fine,” Steve denies. “I want you here.”

Christian nods, looking at the blanket instead of Steve. “Well I’m just gonna…” Christian starts, pulling out one of the extra pillows. Steve gets the hint, removing the extra pillows. Christian hisses as he tries to lie down though.

“What’s the matter?” Steve asks, worried.

“Nothing,” Christian says still grimacing. “Just sore is all.”

Steve thinks back to Christian arching and writhing and clenching the sheets, and he’s not surprised. “I could give you a massage,” he offers. “I don’t know about your legs but I could do your back and shoulders.”

“That’s ok. I’m fine,” Christian naturally answers.

“No,” Steve insists. “I think it’ll help. Can I take your shirt off?” He’s already reaching for Christian’s tshirt over as he’s speaking.

“Yeah,” Christian answers tightly, his body tensing as he tries to hold himself while Steve pulls off his tshirt. Then Steve’s helping him turn over and removing the last pillow so Christian can lie flat.

“Are your legs ok on your stomach?” Steve asks belatedly.

“Uh-huh,” Christian replies shortly.

Steve knows it would be easier if he straddled Christian, but he doesn’t want to push Christian that far. No matter what everyone else thinks about them being together, Steve hasn’t seen any sign that conclusively says Christian’s interested in him. Not since the night Christian was attacked.

Grabbing a little bottle of body oil from the bedside table, Steve takes a deep breath, trying to control his arousal at seeing Christian lying there like an invitation. Steve hasn’t been celibate since moving to Oklahoma though he hasn’t slept with another werewolf here.

Gently, Steve spreads the oil over Christian’s back before putting his thumbs on either side of Christian’s spine, pressing into the hard muscles. Christian makes a choked groaning sound immediately.

“Shhh,” Steve soothes. “I know it hurts some, but just relax.”

It takes Christian a while, but eventually he lets go, his breathing becoming deep and even. Christian’s asleep by the time Steve’s finishing by massaging Christian’s hands.

Steve pulls the blankets up a little higher over Christian’s body as he stands up, going to the bathroom to wash his hands. He turns off the light as he leaves the bedroom, but doesn’t close the door. The sun’s setting as Steve microwaves a portion of casserole and pours himself a glass of Sprite.

He feels good somehow, comfortable with himself and this town. He thinks about everything that happened this morning as he finishes his meal and goes over to the couch. The fear of waking Christian has Steve picking up a book instead of turning on the tv or picking up the guitar like he wants to. But he can’t concentrate on the words on the page as his brain still picks over everything.

It was stressful having the whole town show up at his house but also comforting to have people that really cared about him. He was worried that they were all there just to see Christian but so many of the people seemed genuinely worried about him as well. And what Jensen said…Steve thinks about Jensen and Jason and all of his friends. They’re all independent and interesting and living in a pack doesn’t seem to have stifled that in any of them.

And Christian. Steve’s mind thinks over all the he knows of the man, the strength and determination when the pack is threatened, the easy caring he shows to children, the coy seductiveness in the woods, the lost little boy look when he apologized to Jeff.

It’s about 11 when Steve hears it, the rustling of sheets and frantic little cries in the bedroom. Rushing into the bedroom, Steve is cursing Doc for convincing him that Christian is fine. He’s kneeling over the bed, trying to wake Christian and dial Doc’s number on his cell at the same time when Christian wakes up, suddenly stopping his previous movements.

“A nightmare,” Steve breathes, thankful that it was nothing more serious as he shuts his cell. He lets himself slide down to lie on the bed beside Christian whom Steve helps to turn over onto his back again, Steve shoving a pillow hastily under his head.

“Fuck,” Christian whispers.

Steve’s eyes search over Christian’s face, illuminated only by the light filtering in from the living room. “Are you ok?” Steve asks, still worried that Christian might be having some kind of relapse.

“Yeah,” Christian says before his whole body shudders. “Sorry, I just…”

“Don’t apologize,” Steve whispers, throwing an arm over Christian’s body and pulling the other man close. “I can’t imagine how helpless you felt.”

“Yeah,” Christian chokes out in a thick voice. But he allows himself to be pulled into Steve’s body as Steve lies on his side. They stay like for a while, Steve watching Christian’s eyes close as he swallows then open to stare at the ceiling.

Then Christian’s stomach growls.

“Sorry,” Christian apologizes but Steve’s chuckling softly.

“It’s not like you can help it,” Steve says.

“Yeah, but I’m taking up so much of your time,” Christian explains, persisting in his guilt despite Steve’s words.

“Not a problem, I want you here,” Steve says, before giving in to the impulse to kiss Christian’s temple.

Steve doesn’t give Christian time to respond as he gets up then, heading towards the kitchen. “Do you think you can handle some rice?” he asks.

“Yeah, I can try,” Christian answers, his voice slightly petulant.

It only takes a minute for Steve to microwave a small portion of the chicken and rice and grab a bottle of Gatorade. When he comes back into the room, Christian has managed to sit himself up against the headboard. Steve has to put the bowl down for a second to stuff some pillows behind Christian though.

“I could try feeding myself?” Christian offers politely, obviously not wanting to be difficult but really wanting to try.

“Ok,” Steve says easily, handing the slight warm bowl over to Christian and taking a seat in the nearby chair. The first two spoonfuls seem easy, but then Christian’s taking a break.

“This is nasty,” Christian comments, breaking the silence of Steve just watching him.

“Yeah, it’s pretty plain. Nothing but rice and chicken,” Steve says.

“What, flavor’s bad for me?” Christian retorts.

Steve chuckles. “I’m just doing what Doc says.”

Christian switches the spoon to his left hand and eats another couple of bites before reaching for the Gatorade, drinking a good bit. Christian tries another bite but his arm starts to shake.

“Want help?” Steve asks reaching for the spoon.

“I’m kinda done,” Christian says sheepishly. “Maybe later.”

Nodding, Steve takes the bowl away and lifts the Gatorade to Christian’s lips without a word, blue eyes staring at him frightened and questioning before drinking. Then Christian says, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

Steve knows Doc said for Christian to walk, but he feels like it’s too soon, Christian’s too weak. But he bites back his objections and helps Christian to stand, keeping one arm around Christian’s waist.

Christian sways at first, but his steps are sure. He’s panting by the time they make it to the door though and he reaches out to grasp the door frame and then the edge of the bathroom counter. “I think I’ve got it from here,” Christian states, sheepish as he asks for privacy.

Steve thinks that Christian doesn’t look like he’s got it at all, and gives him the bare minimum, closing the bathroom door but not stepping away, listening as Christian pisses and then flushes the toilet. He’s opened the door again before Christian’s made it back to the sink to wash his hands.

Giving Steve a glare, Christian asks, “Do you have an extra toothbrush?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says, opening a drawer. Of course, Christian would want to brush his teeth, but…

Steve has the package toothbrush in his hand when he moves toward Christian, shutting the toilet lid and coaxing Christian to sit down. Christian reluctantly sits as he realizes what Steve’s doing.

Then Steve opens the packaging, wetting the toothbrush and putting toothpaste on it before handing it over. Christian’s arm starts to shake almost immediately. He tries to switch hands but his left hand is really uncoordinated. It’s a long process before Christian gives up, standing up himself with a hand on the nearby countertop.

It seems the last of Christian’s strength as he runs water over the toothbrush and spits into the sink. But Steve is there, standing behind Christian with an arm around Christian’s waist, letting Christian lean back against him.

Christian manages to walk mostly by himself back to the bed, collapsing on it as soon as it’s within reach. Steve smiles a little. “You ready to sleep some more?”

Christian averts his eyes as he gets comfortable, letting Steve pull the sheet up over his naked chest. “Nah, I’m not quite ready.”

Steve’s face falls as he sits down on the other side of the bed, concerned about the nightmare. “You wanna talk?” Steve offers.

“You have some more stories?” Christian asks.

“Why don’t you tell me about Christian,” Steve turns the tables.

Christian rolls his head on the pillow. “I’m sure you’ve heard about me.”

“But I want to hear it from you,” Steve says, lying on his side with his head propped up on one hand.

“Once upon a time,” Christian starts, echoing Steve’s earlier statement. “There was a little boy who had a wonderful, hardworking momma and Daddy, and an irritating older sister,” Christian smiles as he gets into it.

“But this little boy didn’t want to stay in Oklahoma, he wanted to be a country musician so he moved to Nashville with his parents blessing.” Steve’s ears perk up. He’d never heard that Christian left.

“There was so much going on there, so much music, and the civil rights movement…” Christian trails off at a loss for words it seems. “And there was a beautiful blonde girl, and he…fell in love.”

Steve notes how Christian continues in the third person as if shielding himself from the past. “And she was a country singer too, and they were always together. And one day she bit him.”

“How?” Steve asks. “How did she bite him?” Only a bite in wolf form will transform a person to a werewolf.

Christian moves restlessly a minute, obviously not wanting to talk about it even as he continues the story. “One night she tied him to the bed naked, and then she turned and attacked him, sitting on him as she licked over the wound all night.” Christian’s voice is bitter, but it doesn’t cover up the sadness.

“I didn’t take it well, when she explained it. I didn’t want to outlive everyone. I didn’t want to hide. She got tired of my whining and left, and I…I tucked my tail between my legs and went back to my momma’s house. And that’s where Morgan found me. He gave me a purpose and a family.” Christian shrugs then, his story finished.

“So you stay,” Steve says.

Christian shifts again. “It’s not bad, staying. I care about these people and every new werewolf that joins us. I don’t have to hide who I am.”

Only your heart, Steve thinks. He decides if he wants Christian to trust him, he’ll have to share some of the day’s revelations. “I like it here. I want to stay, but I’m…scared. I’m scared of being responsible for these people because what if I screw up?”

“It is scary,” Christian admits, looking into Steve’s eyes. “But they trust you. I trust you, you just have to trust yourself.”

Steve nods, letting the words sink into the silence. It’s quiet and comfortable until he sees Christian jerking himself awake.

“Hey,” Steve whispers. “It’s ok to sleep. I’ll be right here.” Taking a risk, Steve reaches out to Christian again, pulling him back against his chest, spooning. “I’ll be here,” Steve whispers again.

Christian’s tense for a while after, but he doesn’t pull away and eventually his exhaustion takes over. And since this is the first night that Steve doesn’t have to get up every few hours to change the bags, Steve is quickly asleep too.

***

Steve is the first to wake in the morning. He hates to leave Christian still asleep after saying he’d stay, but he has to take a piss and it’s unlikely Christian will have a nightmare after a restful night. At least he tells himself that as he sneaks out of bed and into the bathroom.

He goes ahead and takes a shower too, leaving the door a little cracked so he can hear Christian. But Christian sleeps peacefully curled on his side as Steve dresses in an old button-down and jeans. It’s his own stomach that growls as he makes his way to the kitchen, starting the coffeemaker.

Getting out a carton of eggs, Steve figures that Christian should be able to handle eggs and toast fine after the chicken and rice last night. And Christian will be glad of the change.

He goes to the doorway immediately when he hears Christian moving, but he suppresses his first instinct to run to Christian’s aid. Christian’s already out of bed by himself, seeming much stronger. Christian walks slowly but surely. “Need help?” he offers.

Christian smiles. “Nah, I think I can do with a little walking.”

Steve smiles and nods. He goes back to making their breakfast, because he wants to show trust, instead of watching Christian’s every move. Besides he can clearly hear everything. He listens to the toilet flush and the water run, Christian presumably brushing his teeth again. When he looks up he sees Christian leaning against the doorframe, wearing the tshirt Steve had taken off him for the massage.

But Christian looks insecure there, with his arms wrapped around his middle. “That night in the woods,” Christian starts, looking straight into Steve’s eyes. “What were you about to do, before we were interrupted?” he asks seriously.

“What?” Steve asks confused. “Why do…?”

“Just, what were you gonna do?” Christian asks again.

Steve turns off the stove and then turns his body towards Christian. “I was going to kiss you.”

“You can do it now,” Christian offers.

Steve sucks in a breath. “I don’t,” Steve has to stop and swallow. “I don’t know if I could stop at a kiss, and you’re still sick.”

“That just means I’m easy prey,” Christian teases, leaning his face back to expose the vulnerable line of his throat more.

It would take a stronger werewolf than Steve to resist as he’s immediately in Christian’s space, pulling Christian against his body as he takes Christian’s mouth. Steve supports Christian’s weight with an arm around Christian’s waist, his other hand cupping the back of Christian’s head.

The first kiss is too hard, too rushed, their stubble catching and rubbing, and Steve softens it immediately, sucking Christian’s bitten bottom lip into his mouth. Christian’s panting as Steve suddenly turns him around, holding them back to front, the hard line of Steve’s dick grinding against his ass. Steve’s hand gently tilts Christian’s face back on Steve’s shoulder, his teeth biting the sensitive line of Christian’s throat.

Steve grasps Christian’s dick through borrowed boxers before both hands are grasping Christian’s tshirt, ripping it down the center and pulling it off Christian’s arms. Christian pushes the boxers down off his hips as Steve rips his own shirt off and shucks his pants, his teeth never leaving Christian’s throat, the burn of Steve’s longer beard.

It’s fast, too fast, like two animals but Steve can’t stop and Christian is only egging him on, panting and crying out soft, undulating and thrusting back against Steve. He’s grateful werewolves are immune to disease as Steve doesn’t think he can stop long enough to find a condom and he’s thinking about using spit as lube.

But as his fingers probe at Christian’s ass, he feels a slickness that shouldn’t be there. Steve releases Christian’s throat long enough to gasp out, “You slicked yourself,” before he’s pulling Christian down to the floor on their knees. Draping himself over Christian’s back like a rutting animal, Steve positions his cock and presses in, trying and failing to go slow.

Christian practically screams, clawing at the carpet beneath his fingers even as he presses back into the thrust, arching his back against Steve’s chest. Steve’s teeth find their hold again, both of them beyond human words, but he knows he’s found Christian’s prostate by the way Christian bucks and cries at each hard thrust. Steve’s arms are wrapped around Christian’s chest as Christian lowers his face to the floor, his arms giving out.

It’s too intense to last, more intense than any sex Steve’s ever had, more possessive as he slams his hips into Christian’s ass, wraps up Christian in his arms. Surprisingly Christian comes first, his hands still on the carpet as he spills into the air. Steve is right behind him as he bites Christian’s throat and his body seizes, grinding into his mate.

Mate, Steve repeats to himself as the aftershocks still rock through him. It’s his first coherent thought, that he’s found something he’s never really thought to look for, but his second is worry for Christian. Pulling out much more gently than he shoved into Christian, Steve gathers Christian back onto his lap, Christian’s head returning to Steve’s shoulder.

“You ok?” Steve pants.

Christian laughs, his body totally limp. “I think I’m done for the day but yeah, I’m good.”

Steve laughs too and nuzzles the side of Christian’s sweaty face. “How ‘bout I bathe you again?”

“Mmm,” Christian’s practically purring at the affection. “Does this mean you’ll stay?” he changes the topic.

Steve swallows but his answer’s sincere. “Yes.”

Christian’s smile widens and he lets his face fall into Steve’s throat. “But,” Steve continues. “I want to take you to Hawaii sometime.”

“Deal,” Christian breathes the word out against Steve’s skin.


End file.
